Eric Sable Parliament of Rooks
by Steven Cooper
Summary: While Voldemort musters his strength, the Ministry of Magic goes on an inquisition. In the middle of it all Eric tries to survive his fifth year at Hogwarts while everything he depended on falls to pieces.
1. Chapter 1

_Eric made his way to a deserted part of the platform, there turning to Evelyn. "Well?"_

_She shook her head. "I can't approve, Eric. She's been raised as a muggle, and she's got way too many problems. You deserve so much more than that."_

_He felt his jaw tighten. "Evelyn, I love her."_

_She looked about, then seemed to sigh. "Well, we'll see. Maybe it is for the best."_

_He repressed a smile, not wishing to hurt her feelings by celebrating. "You'll see. She really is special." He shared a quiet moment with her, gathering his wits before going after his belongings._

... that's when everything went black.

Eric opened his eyes to darkness. This was not the darkness of night, nor an internal room or closet. As he padded his hands about, he determined that this room was especially built to remove any possibility of light, leaving him in a level of darkness that made any sense of sight useless. He padded himself, only to find that someone had apparently dressed him in shorts and a t-shirt. He had no shoes and no socks.

He tried to move about to measure his circumstances, but suddenly stopped. His head felt light; not as if he had knocked it or held his breath, but as if it had simply lost a great deal of weight. Setting his hands to his head, he was shocked to find that his hair was gone, or at least most of it was. Where there was a vast wealth that stretched all the way to his belt, he now had a short mat which could only be half an inch long at most.

He couldn't believe this was happening. Why would someone do this to anyone, and how? The last thing he remembered was Platform 9-3/4. He was just about to get his belongings, then everything went black. Now he was in an enclosed room in pitch darkness. Feeling about, he found that it had a toilet and a sink, but absolutely nothing else. A reasonable effort might keep him clean, but he would have no way of knowing for sure.

Suddenly there were noises. He couldn't make out quite where they were from, but he could tell that they were men. However, they were merely muffled sounds until a wall burst open, streaming in a painful amount of daylight. "Bring the servant of darkness forth into the light." Blinded as he was, Eric could only stagger helplessly until two rough sets of hands grabbed his arms, dragging him outward. Straining as best he could, he could make out four figures dressed in dark clothing. This meant six in all, including the two who were currently holding him. In their midst was a roaring fire, which Eric determined first by the heat he felt.

He shook his head, desperate to clear his senses. This was a witch trial – he had read about them, but everything he knew said that such practices died out at least a hundred years ago. Fighting against the pain, he could begin to see the fire. It was a fairly large one, at least four feet in diameter and piled high. He began to struggle against his captors, for he had read that they often burned witches. Although he couldn't speak for anyone else, he was fairly sure he didn't want to go through the process.

"Now, disciple of the evil one, do you confess that these are the tools you use to serve your master?" He strained to see what was being held out while the sunlight continued to burn his eyes. With a great deal of effort, he finally could see his wand clutched in the gloved hand of one of his tormentors, along with the crystal that held the essence of his mother. "Watch as we strip you of your demonic power!" Without ceremony or hesitation, the figure threw them into the roaring fire.

"EVELYN!" He couldn't believe what was happening. He had just come to terms with the memory of his mother and had brought her to a point where she could accept Naomi Wainwright, a girl who had gained his heart. It took barely a second in the fire's core for the heat to shatter the crystal, dispelling the only link he had with his past. His wand took even less time to ignite, pluming out fire before curling into a thin string of coals.

"Calling out to your guardian demon will avail you naught. We have stripped you of your powers; now we will reclaim your soul." The two men holding his arms dragged him back to the room he came from, ignoring his shouts and pleas. They flung him hard against the rear wall of the room before closing the door, and then another to leave him in the same complete darkness that he woke up in.

He spent a good several hours trying to find a way out of the room. He managed to locate some vents, but they were far too small for him. Further, he occasionally heard scratching sounds from them. The room was currently clean, but if he opened the grates off of the vents, who knows what could scuttle in. He eventually resigned himself to waiting.

He had no idea how long it was before someone finally came. Once again, blazing light burned into his face, forcing him to close his eyes. He heard the scraping of a tray and then the light vanished. Groping in the dark, he eventually found the tray. It had food on it – marginally edible and not deliberately disgusting.

As he ate, he started to consider his captors. What kind of people were they? On the one hand, they were exceedingly cruel, and it seemed clear that they had it in for wizards – or at the very least, him. On the other hand, it was apparent that they didn't want him sick or emaciated. The room was dry and not too cold, if a bit bare. There were provisions for certain needs, especially cleanliness. This followed none of the usual patterns of torture that he was familiar with.

If they didn't want him sick, that meant there was a purpose in mind. All he would have to do is keep his head until that purpose was revealed, and act accordingly. He decided to spend the time considering transmutation or enchantment problems – they always amused him. He could spend the time trying to develop new spells or devices, or at least new ideas for them. That would keep his mind together until he got the chance to escape.

This proved more challenging that anticipated, however. Firstly, he had no references to study with, so there was only so much he could think about before he'd hit a creative wall. Second, his captors had a disrupting tendency to show up unannounced and with no pattern at all. They would come for one of three reasons. One was to feed him, another was to hose him down with cold water ( presumably to wash him ).

The third reason was torture. The methods varied on almost every occasion, though they usually involved leather straps or ropes. There was always a violently bright light burning his darkened eyes, and they always finished the session with the same words. "Consider this, when the time comes for your salvation." Eric had no idea what that meant. He wasn't acquainted with God personally, but everything he knew pointed to someone with a far more sociable personality.

As time crept on, Eric became weaker and weaker. His mind struggled to maintain a train of thought, and he was growing mad with the knowledge that any time he thought he saw something or someone, he was dreaming. He dreamt many times of being rescued; usually it was the Peals bursting in to save him. He'd be lead out with a gauze strip about his eyes, and Naomi would be there. She would be the one who lead everyone to him, having heard his cries for help.


	2. Chapter 2

Hours blurred into days; at least, Eric was fairly sure they were days. He couldn't tell how long he had spent in the darkness waiting for the doors to open, wondering if the next time would bring suffering or sustenance. Finally, something different happened when the door opened. The figures charged in, drawing a heavy hood over his head. They dragged him out of the room to another place. "The doctor says you need air." There were many steps winding upward further and further until he was drawn through a trapdoor. Wind blew cold upon his skin and he could hear the crashing of waves in the distance.

The sound of a heavy lock told him that he was still trapped. However, when he pulled the hood off of his head, the air never smelled so clean. He found that he was on the top of a tower, about three stories high. There were no city lights or any other signs of civilization; wizard or otherwise.

It was night: a clear, cloudless night. Eric felt that he could see a million stars in the sky, and he felt a million more hidden in an all-encompassing glare. Everything was bathed in the clearest blue light imaginable, with only one source possible. The moon hung above him. It was rich and full, so much so he could taste the light bathing him, calling to the deepest reaches of his soul.

As he looked about, he began searching for a means of escape. The tower was a smooth brick, not flagstone, so it couldn't be scaled. Looking at the trapdoor, he could see mountings for the locks that made it clear there would be no removing them. Looking about, he could see a few hay bales about the tower, but they were too far to jump to with his injuries. However, he did have one option; a bright, clear, and obvious one.

As desire began to burn in him, he struggled against the madness that had been growing inside him. A voice of reason screamed in his head: this was no accident. His captors weren't muggles, and they weren't puritan fanatics. Eric had no idea who or what they were, but he knew this was a trap. They had captured him, prepared him carefully, and set him on a course that left him only one option to pursue.

It was a dark path, one that none of the people he cared for would approve of. Even if they understood, it would be unlikely that they'd ever look at him the same again. It was dangerous, and would very likely lead to some kind of disaster. The problem was that it was the only path he had. Regardless of whether or not it was treacherous, tragic, or even exactly what his captors wanted, he had to follow it.

Eric looked to the moon, allowing it to call him. He strained to listen as it whispered of freedom, the absolute joy of strength, and the thrill of the hunt. He let the thought fill his mind and strengthen his limbs. Then he dug deep into his own soul to find a part of himself that he didn't even begin to understand. It was a wild, primitive part that had the strength, endurance, and ferocious will to overcome any obstacle, to defeat or even kill any that would be foolish enough to stand in his way.

He began to feel himself change. Intense pain washed over him as his bones twisted, his muscles contorted, and everything inside him began to shift about. Bizarre forces pulled and shaped him like putty. It was sheer agony, a kind of pain that could drive him beyond the brink of madness. However; he knew he had to endure, and he had to keep his mind with him. It was the only way that he would survive this night and escape his kidnappers.

Suddenly it stopped. All the pain and agony ceased as he felt a rush of energy fill his limbs. He knew he was transformed: he could feel it in the way he moved, but it all felt completely natural. It was as if he was born into this body. A wave of relief filled him, for he greatly feared that he wouldn't be able to handle a changed body effectively.

His senses thrilled him as never before. Everything was far clearer than he could imagine. He could hear moths fly about the tower he was on. Far beyond in a field, he could see a small rabbit that knew it was being watched, for it had become as still as a stone. That wouldn't save it from him – he could smell the blood coursing through it's body. Even from this distance, he could take it as easily as picking an apple. The hunt would be a formality.

He shook his head violently. This was not why he became what he now was. He was trapped, and he needed to escape. Looking at his surroundings again, the hay bales were no longer out of reach, but they would slow him down. There was, however, another way. Letting his hindquarters droop over the tower's edge, he let himself slide against the tower's wall for about half it's length before kicking away, diverting his direction into a tuck and roll. He was on the ground and on his feet in an instant.

He could hear voices shouting. "He's gotten off the tower; get the master!" The fear in their voices was unmistakable, and oh – so satisfying! It wouldn't delay him too long to return the kindness his hosts had shown him. To let them know for themselves what it would be like to live in fear. To make each and every one of them know what it's like to have their flesh torn again and again – oh, and darkness. Take their eyes out, so that they would never see light ever again!

No! A small but firm voice cried inside him, pulling him away from vengeance. He had to escape, to find his bearings, and to return to Diagon Alley, or at least to find some friendly home to regain his bearings. Whoever these people were, they drove him to this point, so they have to be prepared for him to attack. The only thing they wouldn't expect a werewolf to do is run.

So run he did, faster than he could ever dream possible. The shouts from his kidnappers quickly melted into the night as he tore through the woods, seeking as many hard paths and streams as he could find to mask his scent and trail. They would be following him; probably using dogs to track him. He'd need to find a place to hide until morning. Hopefully, the transformation would end and he'd be able to speak with someone. True, the absence of clothing would be a drawback, but it was one he'd simply have to work around.

Finding a culvert to walk in, he traced it back to a drainage pipe. It was dark and deep, and there would be no tracks leading into it or any way for a dog to follow his scent with so many other smells coming from within – most of them foul.


	3. Chapter 3

Eric didn't know how long he had slept, only that he could see clear daylight coming from the culvert's opening. He sighed to himself; he wasn't looking forward to having to scrounge up some scrap to wear until he encountered a muggle authority. Besides that, he was starting to get hungry, which seemed to be making him a bit short tempered. All of that, however, would be addressed as soon as he could get the kinks out of his muscles.

As he began stretching, however, complications brought his thoughts to a halt. His body wasn't moving properly, his limbs not arching in their proper directions. Looking down, he encountered a sight he wasn't expecting – gray fur covering his limbs, joints at the oddest of angles, and a rather pronounced tail. He began to panic as a realization hit him – he hadn't changed back.

Something had gone wrong. He tried to focus his thoughts; this was anticipated. He was weakened, trying magic drawn from deep within him that he didn't have an opportunity to plan for. Getting stuck in a transformed form wasn't unheard of, and there were countermeasures. However, worse than being stuck in a beast form was what he learned examining the beast he had changed into.

While it did have many wolven aspects, the forepaws were exaggerated. This, he found to his dismay, was to accommodate the three-inch claws he now possessed. His general build, although it was quite agile and fast, was not proportioned properly for a wolf. The worst of all was his reflection in the water. Although unclear due to the current, he could make out that he didn't have a proper snout, his ears were oversized and fanned back, his teeth were set all wrong, and his eyes were a bright crimson red.

He was no wolf – indeed, he couldn't define what he was. He knew one thing, though: there would be no approaching anyone in this form any time soon. Hagrid would be the only person he ever knew that could be less than repulsed to a beast such as he currently was. Since he didn't know exactly where he was relative to Hogsmeade, he couldn't possibly find his way back. He had only one option. Assuming he was still on the larger of the British Isles, he could eventually find London. Once he found London, he could find help. He'd wait until nightfall, and rest as much as he could. He needed to learn to be completely nocturnal if he was going to make it in one piece.

As night fell, he examined his surroundings. They were rural enough for him to risk going out. Examining the sky, he found the full moon rising in the east. That would be the direction he'd go. Eventually, he'd hit the coastline, then work out where to go from there. First, however, he needed food. A full grown werewolf could eat twenty pounds of red meat a day, and he'd need to keep himself satisfied in order to focus on the task at hand. He settled on hunting rabbits, finding it all too easy to take them down. They wouldn't fill his hunger entirely, but they'd do for a start.

At first, he was reluctant; more out of revulsion than anything else. However, as he began to hunt, he quickly fell into the spirit of things, taking down the poor things quickly and cleanly. The meat also tasted surprisingly good uncooked, with a tangy zest he never experienced before.


	4. Chapter 4

_L-O-N-D-O-N : London._

The symbols upset him. The symbols were called letters, the letters stood for sounds, the sounds made a word, and the word stood for... something. Something that was important. He could remember that much. This 'london' was something he wanted. He had traveled for nights searching for it. He had to remember, for it was important to be able to remember; but why? Why was it important to remember?

He smelled food. Food was important. Food filled a void. Filling a void meant not being distracted. Not being distracted meant being able to remember. Once he could remember, he could remember why it was important to remember.

He looked out into the darkness. He was surrounded by food. Ungainly food covered in blankets that moved on two limbs. It had no fur, so it's flesh would be easy to tear into – No! That was not food. It smelled like food; and if he ate it, it would taste like food. But it was not food. He had to remember that it was not food. It was important to remember.

He smelled more food. It was a strong smell; a fresh kill. He could smell it through the stone. A kill was inside the stone. How could it be? A cave; yes, a cave of smooth stone – they were all caves of smooth stone. Inside this one there would be food. How to get in? Through the wood? No; it would be a trap. There are bars: he'd go through the bars. Whatever killed the food in the cave wouldn't expect him through the bars.

He tore the bars away from the stone, then entered the cave. He was surrounded by food! All killed, all the hide tore away. All he could possibly want. He ate his fill and to spare, for when would he find riches like this again? The satisfaction of his belly calmed him. He began to try again.

_London_

A place! London was a place! There must be something at London he wanted. It couldn't be food, for he had food now. What was he missing? A shelter. He had to move from every shelter he had been in, for they were not safe. There must be a shelter at London. He left the cave to go to London.

He found a path – it was a very strange path. There was something about this path that was important. It led to somewhere; it must go to London! He followed the path, before something came down it. It was very large and made lots of noise. He had never seen a beast so large. The path, it was the beast's path. The beasts could only walk on the paths like this one. He remembered! He ate and didn't have to eat so he remembered!

The path met other paths. They came to a hollow mountain. This was good; for this was London. Where was the shelter? Not in the mountain; there were too many in the mountain. There was no place to hide. A hill, a hill like the mountain. It was not far, but he'd have to wait until the night was deep. The food that walked on two legs would be all but gone, and he'd be able to find the hill.

He waited, then he searched for the hill. It was this way; he remembered again! If only he could remember why he wanted so much just to remember. No matter, he'd remember that later. Find the hill. The hill was there, behind the wall. Climb the wall and there was the hill. He needed to get into the hill. There were caves; caves with wood in front of them. Break the wood and go into the cave.

There was a scent in the hill; a good scent. Not food, but something else. Follow the scent and find what is good that is not food.

_A door opened in the side of the hall. Roger Wainwright looked out to see the beast walking in his house. "Good Lord - Norman! Get a gun and get down here!"_

_Another door opened and Naomi looked outward, screaming briefly. The creature looked up at her, it's claws and teeth dripping with blood. She stared at it's horrific face, only to gasp. The mind behind the eyes was primal, but there was something in the core of it that was achingly familiar. She saw Norman charging up the stairs – she barely had time enough to stop him. "Norman, don't shoot! It's Eric!"_

"_What?" Roger turned to his daughter. "Are you out of your mind? This – this thing can't be that boy."_

"_Father, trust me." She reached behind the door and drew out a wand. "Eric – please forgive me..._

"_**Morpheus Fortedux!"**_


	5. Chapter 5

He woke up to find himself imprisoned. He wore a large, thick metal collar that was chained to the floor. The humiliation of this burned in his mind, and he was trapped! Looking about, he could see several of the two-legged ones staring at him. There was a tall one, and the smaller one with the welcome scent. He became confused as his feelings collided with one another – one part of him furious and enraged, another trying to convince him that this was as he wanted.

_Clareone looked down at him. "This can't be Eric."_

_Naomi looked up to her. "Mrs. Peal, I'm sure of it."_

"_How did he come to this state?"_

"_We don't know, but we'll help him."_

_She gathered herself together. "Well, there's only one thing to do. He'll have to be taken to St. Mungo's."_

_A sharp voice came through the doorway. "That is precisely what you must never do!" Grandmother Frona stepped into the room, flanked by Fenris and Kaneus._

_Mrs. Peal turned to her. "How can you say that? If this is Eric, then he clearly needs help."_

_The old woman turned to her. "In that much we agree; the boy does need help. What he does not need is a gathering of fools, so wrapped up in their own abilities that they can't admit that they don't know what to do."_

"_And I suppose you do?"_

_The old woman turned back to Eric. "I know what to do. We may be able to help him, we may not. I do know, however, that as well-meaning as the wizards of your hospital may be – they will be unable to do anything for him." She turned to the others. " All of you should leave." She then set a hand on Naomi's shoulder. "All but you, child."_

_The displeasure of Mrs. Peal was as plain as could be as she left the room. Frona ignored her, turning back to Eric. "Now, I need to examine him. Boys, make it plain to him."_

As two of the tall ones came towards him, he stood ready. He would kill them quickly and painfully for this outrage. Then there was a scent, a sound that made him stop. Looking at them, he could see past their forms, and he could smell their blood. It was the same as his own. He didn't understand, but he just knew that they were his kind. The other one, who was so old; she was his kind, too.

He could see in their eyes and in the way they moved that they were more powerful than he was. He didn't want to yield, but their response if he did not would be painful. They moved to either side and let the old one step forward. He could take her, but the others would respond. He had no choice but to wait as she pawed at his pelt, grabbed at his chin and looked him over. He had to behave. If he behaved, maybe they would accept him and free him.

_Frona turned to Naomi. "I will not lie to you – I've never seen worse. If a mixed-blood like Eric seeks to draw out the wolf, he needs to prepare. It needs to be carefully planned; carried out at the right time under the right conditions. Whatever caused him to do this did not give him the time or the opportunity to proceed carefully._

"_Now; we may be able to help him, but much must change. The beast was called because he needed it to survive. He will cling to it now because it has protected him. Before he can be restored, he must be able to let go of the wolf. He is to be fed as much as he will eat. He must be kept warm and safe. If all goes well, he will be ready in a few days. I will stay as long as there is hope."_


	6. Chapter 6

She came in again, as she did for the last several days. He backed away so that she would not be afraid of him. He didn't want to frighten her, for she had been very kind to him.

He could smell the food she had brought him. It was hot again. It had been hot and dark the last few days, with less and less blood remaining in it. This time, none remained. He missed it slightly, but there was a moisture this time, and the meat was well seasoned. It wasn't blood, but it was still good, and there was plenty of it.

He let her stroke his head while he ate. It seemed to please her, and it was comforting. She seemed to be the only one who cared about him, so it would have been wrong to attack her. As he looked up at her, he saw her eyes widen. She turned to the opening and shouted. "Frona! Come quick!"

Frona – that meant something. No, that meant someone. Those sounds stood for someone. A figure came through the opening; an old woman. She was Frona!

"His eyes aren't red anymore." She moved aside to let Frona look at him.

The old woman smiled as she set a hand on Naomi's shoulder. "Yes, this is what we needed. He is no longer afraid. You have made him feel safe, now he doesn't have to be the wolf anymore." She turned back to him. "You must remember who you are. The beast you have become is a part of you, but it is not all of you. We all care for you, and we want you to come back to us."

To remember; yes, that was important. Now he knew why it was important; so that he could return. If only he could remember enough. The old woman; she was helping him! He turned back to her as attentively as he could.

"I can tell you are listening. Let us see if you understand. Who am I?"

She was Frona, but how could he say that? Looking to the floor, he could see that his claws had made marks on it. Drawing out a single claw, he began scratching it.

F

She smiled to him. "A good start. Now, try hard to remember who this one is."

He looked to her. He felt so warm when he looked at her, and her eyes were always so soft and gentle. Naomi – that was her name! Once he knew that, so much came with it, feelings of warmth and ... and love! She wasn't his kind, there wasn't anything in her blood that was like his; but for him to feel this way, that meant that he had to be her kind.

He scratched the ground again:

Naomi

The woman laughed and rubbed his head. "Excellent, my dear, excellent! Now, all that remains is for you to know yourself. You know me, and you know Naomi. We both are dear to you – use that to find yourself!"

He closed his eyes and fought to remember. Suddenly they came crashing down like a broken dam. He saw a day spent in Diagon Alley – a wand that exploded into light – a train ride to a faraway place – flying broomsticks – caverns – woods – wolves – a campground – dancing – a dungeon – an elf – a giant – an old wizard – his landlady – her husband – goblins – wood – a wand...

Finally he saw a mirror, one that showed a boy relaxing in a meadow while being served by a faithful friend. He had no worries or cares, and he remembered that the boy was himself as he wanted to be more than anything in the world. He knew who he was, he knew all the people around him, and he knew how to tell them he was himself.

My name is Eric

The old woman hugged Naomi joyously. "That's it, my dear child, that is it indeed!" She turned back to him, stroking his head lightly. "Yes, dear boy, you are Eric. Now, all that remains is to get the rest of you to agree with that. To do that, you need to want to come back. Do you want to?" He nodded energetically. "Excellent. Tonight, we will bring you back."

The arrangements were complicated. As Eric lay in the center of the cramped room, symbols were chalked onto the walls while candles were set up and lit all around him. In the distance, he could hear Grandmother Frona singing to herself. He could smell that she was brewing up something, and it was probably vile. Naomi sat with him all the while. It was clear that she had forgiven him for at least this much. More than anything he needed to become human again, if for no other reason than to be with her again.

At last it was nightfall, and Frona walked in carrying a bowl of something that smelled terrible. "Grab him, boys." Kaneus and Fenris were over like a shot, securing Eric before he knew it. "Remove the collar, dear." Naomi stepped over and carefully released the collar that had held him for so long. "Now, go and fetch a blanket. If all goes well, he'll need it."

Frona knelt in front of him, stroking his head gently. "I'm sorry, dear boy, but there's no way around this. The potion will make it possible for you to return. Unfortunately, the potion is disgusting and the process is painful. There is no harm in being afraid, but all will turn out well if you want this to happen. Do you?" Eric was very afraid, but he nodded, which Frona smiled at in reply. "That's my brave child. Don't worry about swallowing enough of the potion – the boys will make sure you do. Now, please open."

He did his best, at which point strong hands secured his jaws. The potion was unspeakably vile and it burned like a poison going into him. He couldn't help but gag on it, his entire body convulsing for escape. Kaneus and Fenris were as good as Frona said, however, and he ended up swallowing the lot of it. He could feel his body twist and contort again, this time under force. It was all he could do to keep focused on his goal; whatever it took, he had to be Eric again.

After what felt to be an eternity, the pain subsided. He could feel a blanket being draped on him, after which Frona came over. "Rest easy, my boy. You did it!" He reached out an aching arm, gratefully seeing a plain hand of five fingers.

Frona turned to the doorway. "Shall I call the others?"

Eric let out a sigh. "Let Naomi in – I need to thank her."

She looked back quizzically. "There are many who care about you, that would want to see you well."

Eric was resolved. "We can tell them now, but let me get my strength back before I see them. I'm sick of bedside visits."

He drew together enough blanket to wrap himself thoroughly. Naomi came in, rushing to him immediately to clamp her arms about him. Finally, she looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. "I thought I'd never see you... Eric; _what happened to your hair?"_


	7. Chapter 7

Norman did the best he could to get Eric presentable. The results looked pretty good, if one got past the fact that it was much shorter than he'd ever wore it for his entire life. In order to make it look like something other than a butcher's cut, it had to be taken down to an inch at it's longest. The result had a tendency to spring up unmanageably, but it was presentable.

That evening, the Wainwright house was bustling with people. The Peals had come out, as did the Moons. Professors Flitwick and Frugilagus made a point of attending, as did Riley and Amelia – two Makhab clan members he met at the Quidditch tournament. Many of the Romuls were there, as well. Norman had set out an impressive spread; he seemed to love playing host, and the more people, the better. Eric felt that he had far too many people looking him over, making sure that he was all right. When Dolores Umbridge arrived at the Wainwright's door, that was too much.

"Good evening. I wish to see Eric Sable immediately." Eric could hear her in the hallway, and he could feel his innards twist. Dolores was about as welcome as seven days of bad weather. His previous encounters all turned out extremely badly; considering recent events, he had no reason to believe that this would turn out any better.

To Eric's dismay, Roger invited her in, every bit the gracious host. "Norman: find Eric. Inform him that he's wanted in the parlor." Eric took the opportunity to get as far from the front hall as he could, hiding out in the attic.

This worked only briefly, when Norman popped his head into the loft. "I'm sorry, young master, but your exit was in such haste I couldn't help but hear you climb the steps."

Eric was in a panic. "I'm not facing her, Norman. She's going to grill me about the last week."

Norman, however, smiled broadly under his moustache. "We have no intention of forcing her on you; quite the opposite, in fact. You see, when Master Roger told me to 'inform you', that was precisely what I was to do – inform you that you were wanted, so that you could escape." He walked across the loft to a back exit. "This will lead to the kitchen where you will meet Miss Naomi. She will take you for walk, so that you can unwind."

Barely pausing to express his thanks to Norman, Eric bolted down the stairs, grateful for the chance to get away from the crowd. His exit was stopped short, however, when he saw Naomi. Although it was the same dark cloak, the tight sweater, dark pants and spiked boots gave her an appearance he really wasn't used to.

Flipping on a set of sunglasses, she grabbed Eric's arm. "What are you waiting for – we've got to go!" She pulled him through a rear exit where Sheena was waiting, along with Dorian and Tylena. "I've been showing them the city, and they've been showing me how to enjoy it. To Gotham!" Eric soon found out what she meant as they bounced from place to place, seeing all sorts of strange and wondrous things.

'Gotham' turned out to be a dimly lit gothic nightclub with multiple levels. The four of them were allowed in the lowest level, where tables and a dance floor were waiting. They had barely sat down before a ringing sound caught Naomi's attention. Grabbing Eric by the arm, he dragged him away from the table. "Come on, we're dancing!"

Eric was suddenly terrified. "But ... I don't ..."

"Let me worry about it – you just follow along." The song did have an easy beat to follow, and Naomi wasn't going so fast that Eric couldn't keep up. He quickly forgot where he was as the song began it's chorus.

_I heard a rumour – it was just a rumour : I heard a rumour – what have you done to her?_

Naomi circled about Eric, making sure he wasn't too lost. His feelings at this were mixed. He had made it back from wherever his captors had held him all on his own; he didn't need a babysitter. On the other hand, it was clear that she knew how much her uncharacteristic openness rattled him. It was nice to see that it mattered to her.

Her dancing was a subtle swaying, which was extremely easy to follow. The song itself had a tone and rhythm that was infectious. Eric followed along as best he could, trying his best not to draw attention to himself, though it was easy to get lost in the moment. Then, the song was over – much too soon for Eric's liking. He was just getting into it.

Dorian greeted him warmly when they returned to their table. "Welcome to Gotham, where the strange and unusual of all worlds meet!" He gestured about. "Most of these people are muggles – some of them call themselves witches, wizards, or even vampires. The real wizards and witches aren't that obvious."

Eric turned to him. "Why not? Surely these muggles could accept the truth?"

Naomi turned to him. "Maybe – maybe not. The world has gone on real well with the status quo. Why should we kick it? Besides: the owner is a wizard with a strict No Magic rule. We cast one spell and we can't come back."

Eric nodded then looked about, finally having a chance to take the place in. The hall was mostly dark, with people moving this way or that. They were mostly dressed as if it were a medieval Halloween; or at least what they think it would've been like. Capes and corsets abounded, almost all of them black or a deep shade of red. Painted faces and poor lighting made it impossible to figure out what these people would have really looked like. Perhaps this was their way of hiding.

They spent the night at Gotham, periodically dancing, snacking, talking or playing games. The constantly changing crowd was intriguing, and the group did take breaks in quiet corners to let Eric catch his breath periodically. As the time passed midnight they decided that they had to return home, though the path they took passed a number of London nightspots, which allowed them to watch muggle crowds as they milled about the streets.

Finally arriving at the Wainwrights, Sheena drove off with Dorian and Tylena, leaving Naomi and Eric at her back entrance. Halfway back to the house, he stopped her. "I want you to know: this was the best night I've ever had."

Smiling in his face, she stepped up to kiss him. It was slower, not as clumsy as last time. "I've had time to figure out how to do this right."

She would've kissed him again if the light hadn't snapped on. The porch was lined with adults. The Wainwrights were holding their expressions, while Norman stood in the back quite stoically. Grandmother Frona was smiling wickedly, while Lymeon Peal seemed more amused than anyone. Mrs. Peal, however, radiated the fact that she was extremely upset. "Eric, we're going home... **_now_**."

The trip back to Diagon Alley was made in uncomfortable silence, which Eric didn't totally understand. Maybe kissing Naomi in the dark wasn't the most noble thing to be caught doing, but it wasn't like they were doing anything that extreme. Clareone's reaction, however, was more than just excessive. When they finally arrived at the leaky cauldron, she marched him swiftly through the alley and all but locked him into his room without a single word.

Willy, however, was a much more welcoming sight. "Master Eric! You're back, and you are safe!" The fresh milk and cookies he prepared eased the edge off of the night. He'd apologize in the morning for upsetting Mrs. Peal. Hopefully, that would settle things.


	8. Chapter 8

The peaceful morning Eric was hoping for was shattered almost immediately. An insistent pounding on the door was his wake-up call, and the unpleasant face of Dolores Umbridge was the first person he had the misfortune of seeing that morning. "Mister Sable – I've been trying to contact you for some time. There are questions that need to be answered."

He sighed – avoiding this would only make it worse. "Please wait."

She responded by turning a lovely shade of vermilion. "Wait? I've been standing out here for the last quarter hour!"

"Then maybe you could try stopping by **_after_** the sun rises. That way, I'd be in a fit state to speak with you, wearing something a little more substantial than a bathrobe and goosepimples." That statement shocked Dolores enough for him to close the door. Ordering Willy to prepare tea and rolls, he set about dressing as quickly as he could, not wishing to give an impression of deliberately stalling.

He came back to the front room disheveled, but at least dressed. Ms. Umbridge was waiting, a disdainful look on her face. "This elf refused to pour me a cup of tea."

Eric calmly sat across from her. "That's because he's my servant; not yours." He turned back to his companion. "Willy, please provide our guest with refreshment." The elf didn't disappoint him, bringing out tea along with a large, hot cinnamon bun. After all, he did not wish to be found short of hospitality.

At that point, Dolores Umbridge began to grill Eric at length regarding his whereabouts for the last month. Many of his answers were deliberately vague, but at least he had the advantage of being kidnapped. Losing track of time, being disoriented and otherwise not being able to account for one's whereabouts were most likely normal. In this case, knowing more would be a suspicious situation.

It quickly became apparent that she suspected something quite close to the truth. She produced several articles, asking if Eric knew anything about them. To his satisfaction, he could honestly say that he didn't. The memory of his time being the beast was clouded at best. It remained only as a sense or a feeling, and little more. Trying to remember any particular events or actions was hopeless.

After an eternity that lasted well beyond dawn, Lymeon Peal finally came downstairs to open shop. "Hello! What's been going on here?"

Dolores turned to him. "I've been trying to interview young Master Sable. Unfortunately, his responses fail to answer certain pressing questions."

Lymeon flashed a winning smile. "Well, that's hardly unexpected. He's been through so much, it's unlikely that he remembers anything that would be too useful. Now, my boy; if you feel up to it, I'd like your help opening the shop."

Dolores protested. "Mister Peal, I still have questions for Eric to answer."

He smiled broadly at her. "Tell me, Ms. Umbridge; how long have you been here?"

She seemed hesitant. "Hem – well, I'm not entirely sure."

Willy was overjoyed to assist her. "The lady arrived over three hours ago, good sir; and Eric saw her as soon as possible."

"Three hours, really?" Lymeon's round face looked very much like a child who had found his favorite toy. "My word, we do lose track of time when we do important things! One would almost think that the boy was being interrogated, instead of interviewed!" Dolores' face pulled together as if she had bitten into something sour. If he noticed, Lymeon didn't say. "Anyway, I need the boy to help me open, and you'll agree that after sitting for so long, he needs some exercise."

She drew her materials together, retrieving her coat and hat. "If I have any more questions, I'll be in touch."


	9. Chapter 9

Time began to gain a sense of order fairly quickly. Days consisted of working at the cafe', while evenings included continued lessons with both Professor Frugilagus and Sheena Wyldehart. His combat classes had graduated all the way to swords. Corvin was extremely pleased with his progress, assuring him that the upcoming year at Hogwarts ( which included the taking of his O.W.L.s ) was going to be the easiest he'd had for quite a while.

It took him a few days before settling on components for a new wand. The wood was African Padauk, difficult to work with but resulting in a wonderful color. It took a while to settle on a core, but at length Eric settled on manticore mane. It was expensive, and the results were far more volatile than his old unicorn wand. After casting a few test spells, though, he was quite pleased with his work. His wand had accepted him as well as his first one, and it suited his new temperament.

He couldn't help but notice that the whole kidnapping and transformation experience did result in a few notable changes in his manner. He found himself to be more anxious than before, and more irritable. Further, while he always had a headstrong nature, these days he was more inclined to follow it without hesitation. Behind all of this was a kind of strength discovered through the ordeal – raw and primal, he just knew it would be there when he needed it to claw his way out of any predicament.

Among the more interesting changes that he'd undergone was a growing passion for food. It wasn't enough that Willy could prepare a good meal anymore. He began craving new and different combinations, simmered, seasoned and spiced all kinds of ways. At first, he had to fight Willy for the use of the kitchen. It took several days of demonstrations to show the house elf that some people enjoy experimenting with new meals. Willy did eventually relax once Eric began to teach him as they went along. After a week and a half, even the elf was getting into the act, experimenting with vegetables and stews with wonderful results.

Eric, however, was more than a little irritated at one growing tendency in his life. Naomi had started showing up on a semi-regular basis, trying hard to spend time with him. This would have been most welcome except that Mrs. Peal always seemed to appear out of nowhere with one chore or another, reminding Eric that they were helping him finish his education. After two weeks, he was finally feeling far too pent up, so he sent a note to Naomi; meet him at the Leaky Cauldron with plans for a fun evening.

Eric knew that he'd be in for it, but he had more than enough of captivity. As the sun began to set, the need to get out and cut loose became overwhelming. Gathering his wand and a cloak, he snuck out across the alley. Naomi was waiting for him, her dark cloak concealing a scandalously tight outfit. "Are you ready?"

As Eric nodded enthusiastically, she drew back a cloth revealing a small cup with two handles. "Grab hold of my hand, then on the count of three grab the cup."

He recognized that the cup was obviously a portkey. When the third count was reached, they both vanished from the tavern and were swept to a remote field, where a large bonfire and several wagons were waiting. Recognizing the sounds, he ran with Naomi towards the grouping. The Romuls had gathered again for a full moon celebration. There was a roast pig, a dozen kinds of bread, and they were even served wine. Naomi curled herself around Eric as the party spun about. As a dozen people asked for details about his adventure, Eric answered as best as he could. He could see Grandmother Frona nodding in approval as he kept remembering more and more details.

Within an hour, however, the moon rose high into the sky. One of the Romuls began to howl at it, then another and another. Before long all the music stopped and the howl became one chorus. At that point they began to change, shifting into wolves and running into the field. Eric knew he should join them; he had made the transformation once, so this time it would be easier. He stood up stiffly, drawing in the night air and basking in the full moonlight.

However, as he began to work the kinks out of his muscles in preparation, he felt a hand on his arm. Turning about, he found himself looking into Naomi's desperate eyes. "Eric: stay with me, please?"

He ached with the uncertainty. Every fiber of his being wanted to reshape itself to hunt in the night again, yet his heart wanted Naomi more than anything in the world. As much as it hurt him, he couldn't leave her alone.

She whispered to him, calling him away from the pack. "I know you want to go, and I know how much it means to you. Please believe me; it means just as much to me that you would be willing to stay with me instead." She drew him back behind one of the wagons, where a small table was set out. On it was another cup with two handles. "This will take us back to my home."

He could feel his teeth grind together as the realization came over him. This was all a test; to make sure that despite his ordeal he was in control of his new self. He bit back hard against his initial anger, trying to keep in the front of his mind the thought that Naomi had done it for his own good. Eric drew a cleansing breath, letting go of all his built up energy. "All right; only, do we have to go right now?"

Smiling, she kissed him on the cheek before whispering in his ear. "I've got a Parcheesi board set up in my room."


	10. Chapter 10

The sun was peeking through Naomi's curtains as Eric woke up that morning. It took him a minute to remember that the hard surface that he slept on that night was Naomi's floor, and not another prison. Looking about, he saw Naomi tucked in her bed, sound asleep.

He stretched out on the floor and relaxed for several minutes; gathering his wits to remember why he was in Naomi's room, rather than his room on Diagon Alley. He remembered the Romul party, then the three games of Parcheesi. He actually won once, and came in close on the last game. He wanted to go home, but Naomi insisted that it wasn't safe and he was too tired. That's why he was huddled in a blanket on her floor.

Now that he had himself oriented, he had to get out of there. Problematic, since Naomi's room didn't have any exits. He'd have to charm his way out, and not by flattering Dorothy. _"Gun mothaich siubhail faodaidh mi."_

It was a Gaelic form of the discretix charm, more than powerful enough to get him out of the house. He decided to leave it go all the way back to the Leaky Cauldron before finding a dark corner to banish it. He left a note to Naomi, thanking her for a wonderful night and warning her not to take any consequences for the spell he cast. After that, it was a simple matter to leave the house and return to Diagon Alley.

The breakfast he obtained at the Leaky Cauldron was exceptional, and was noteworthy for the fact that he ate double-portions of everything. This was partly due to his being famished from the night before and a concern that upcoming meals might well be reduced to bread and water. When he returned to the Crock & Kettle, he found his suspicions would be most likely realized when he saw Mrs. Peal waiting for him in the doorway. "And just where were you all night?"

He took a deep breath, for his answer wasn't going to please her. "I spent the night with Naomi."

"Just who gave you permission to leave here?" She was clearly furious.

"You're not Hagrid, so you've got no right to keep me locked up!" Although Eric was determined to stand up to her this time, he could see Lymeon flinching in the background.

At Eric's response, Clareone turned a brilliant scarlet hue. "Understand this very well, young man! Hagrid is away, and he put me in charge of your care. I have no intention of losing control over you just because you want to spend time chasing girls. Therefore, it is clear that London is no place for you. The new Care of Magical Creatures instructor at Hogwarts wrote to me the other day, asking if you could return to help her care for the menagerie until Hagrid returns. Clearly, that would be for the best." She cleared the entrance for him to pass. "Pack your things, you leave this afternoon."

As he gathered his possessions, Eric couldn't believe what was happening. Mrs. Peal was always on his side, watching out for him when others tried to tear him apart. Why was she now being so cruel? In addition to this banishment, Willy was supposed to stay with the Crock & Kettle to help Lymeon. Eric thought seriously about refusing. Willy was his servant – what gave her the right to say where he would or wouldn't go?

He was pondering this thought as Lymeon peeked through the doorway. "Dreadfully unfair, isn't it?" After waiting for Eric to nod before he entered, he parked himself on a small chair. "If I may ask, what did the two of you do last night?"

"We went to a cookout, then back to her place to play games – **_board games_**." It occurred to him that the elaboration would be necessary. "I fell asleep well after midnight."

Lymeon nodded. "I know it's hard, but try not to think too badly of Clareone. She really does have your best interests at heart when she does these things."

Eric turned to him, dropping down onto his bed. "Sending me away so that I won't see my girlfriend is in my best interests?"

Lymeon smiled. "I'm not saying she isn't overreacting. There's a lot about her, and you, that you don't know about." His face suddenly turned serious. "I probably shouldn't explain this all to you, and Clareone would be furious. However, there are things you deserve to know, that perhaps will allow you to understand her better."

He settled in his chair. "Clareone is the second daughter of Tawney Waters, who was nineteen at the time. Her mother had already had another daughter, Courtney, at the tender age of sixteen, while still attending Hogwarts. It was rather a scandal, especially since the father never bothered to marry her, choosing instead to go off to pursue his own desires.

"Clareone was determined to grow up respectably. She stayed in school and focused on her studies until she graduated as a young adult. By that time, Courtney had already had a daughter of her own; Evelyn Romul."

Eric's eyes flew wide. "Evelyn _Romul_? That means that it was my grandmother..."

Lymeon nodded. "... who married into the werewolf clan that you've become a part of. Clareone didn't like that at all, feeling that it further darkened the reputation of Waters family. Gregor Romul, however, was a very good father, even if his manner was a bit rough. Evelyn grew up happy and free, but perhaps too free. This was made worse just before she went to school, for that's when **_he_** became generally known, and started on his path to seize power.

"Your grandparents, wishing anonymity, changed their name to Argent. That's the name that Evelyn went to school with, and for several years it worked. However, before she finished school, Gregor and Courtney were murdered. As a result, Evelyn lived with us for a while. When she finished school, however, she took up with some boy – we never found out who he was – and began living in Hogsmeade. It wasn't long after that when you were born, and soon after that Evelyn was killed.

Lymeon sighed. "Clareone was hurt beyond words at Evelyn's death. We knew about you, but she really didn't feel that she could raise another child from her sister's line, as she had already experienced all the failures she could cope with. You were safe at Hogwarts, being cared for by the kindest adoptive uncle anyone could hope for. We really felt it was for the best that things were left alone."

Eric looked up at Lymeon. "So Mrs. Peal is, what, my Grand-Aunt?"

"Something like that." He smiled. "So you see, you're the product of three generations of scandalous births. Clareone doesn't want that repeating any more, which is why she wants to separate you from Naomi. Personally, I think Miss Wainwright is a sweet girl, if a bit moody. The two of you seem very happy together, and I hope you can continue to treasure that. I only ask that you try to see things from Clareone's point of view. Maybe even find it in your heart to forgive her for being, well, somewhat reactionary."

Lymeon smiled broadly as Eric took a deep breath and nodded. "That's the spirit. Things will work out for the best, you'll see. Now: it would be two wonderful favors if I could keep Willy here to help me out, and if you would write Naomi explaining things. You can say what you like, and be as honest as you wish."

Eric nodded again. "I'll try to be kind. Maybe you could help?"

Lymeon smiled broadly. "Of course."

Eric drew out a parchment and quill, then paused. "One thing, sir. Does anyone know who Courtney and Clareone's father was?"

This made Mister Peal frown, but he answered. "He was an extremely charming and talented lad, by the name of Thomas Riddle. A determined and ambitious boy, he struck out after leaving Hogwarts to achieve greatness through the search and development of power."

Eric suddenly stiffened up. "Do you think he's still alive somewhere?"

Mister Peal shook his head. "No, Eric. I am quite certain that Tom Riddle has been gone for a long, long time."


	11. Chapter 11

Wilhemina Grubbly-Plank was more than a challenging person for Eric. First; she was a nice enough person, simple and no-nonsense. It was very hard not to like her, despite the fact that she was directly competing with Hagrid's position. Second; she was a far better teacher than Hagrid could hope to be. Everyone who had the opportunity to learn from the two of them knew that she presented material in a far more orderly manner, and in many ways far better, than Hagrid's hands-on approach.

However; despite her book learning, she didn't exactly have the skills she needed personally to take care of the various residents of Hogwarts. True: she knew exactly what she was supposed to do in each and every case, without fail. However, when the time came to feed the hippogriffs, they had a dreadful tendency to snap at her, since her nervousness around them was perceived as discourtesy.

Because of this, she was more than pleased when Eric arrived to assist her. Raised from a baby around Hagrid's fearless handling and love of the most astounding and dangerous of beasts, Eric quickly took to the tasks needed to get the school's stable of animals back to fit condition. The creatures recovered so quickly, in fact, that the professor gave him a qualified 'O' for the year. While this meant nothing in regards to his OWLs, it did remove one burden from his upcoming 'to do' list.

Along with his other responsibilities, Eric checked in on the two snidgets that Naomi brought to school last year. They appeared to be doing satisfactory, although he was concerned about predators. He needed to create a defense, something that would protect the snidgets. This, he decided, would be the grand project for this year – he'd create a snidget defender.

In the breaks between his projects and duties, Eric tried to keep on with combat practice. Without Sheena around, it was hard to practice properly. However, he was determined to make a good show of it, which is why every afternoon found him going through sword patters, regardless of the weather. Soon he could trace patterns with confidence, mindful of his defenses. He started practicing with different kinds of styles, in order to develop some potential and maybe a few surprises when Sheena returned.

Then there was corresponding with Naomi. She was very upset that he was sent away, but she did accept that it was for the best, at least to keep Mrs. Peal happy. They'd see each other soon enough, and each letter was wrapped with new things they could do. Some of these were projects, while others were simply ways to enjoy themselves without getting into more trouble. Her letters did suggest, however, that there was something amiss going on. They hinted that her father was dealing with the Ministry more and more, and it was getting harder for the residents of Knockturn Alley to go about their business.

She also was very concerned about articles being published in the Daily Prophet that were attacking Harry Potter. Eric had read them as well – several scathing articles that were clearly meant to discredit Harry, and often Professor Dumbledore as well. He had no idea why the Prophet would engage in a smear campaign unless someone was making them. The thought, however, that someone could give orders to the wizard's single source for reliable news was more than a little unnerving.

Once his life fell into a daily pattern, Eric decided to take in a night flight. It had been so long since he had taken the opportunity, his first maneuvers were a little shaky. It wasn't long, though, before he was back into familiar maneuvers, testing the limits of his ebony broom. With the clear sky and no other students in the area, there was no reason for him not to push the limits of both the maneuverability and the speed aspects of his design. He went zipping along the lake between Hogsmeade and Hogwarts before heading over to the Quidditch pitch to practice acceleration, deceleration, and tight turns using the goals for obstacles. It was such a release to simply enjoy flying that he had spent an hour in the air before realizing that he was being observed by another flier.

Not wishing to be identified, he started to zip about the castle, hoping to lose his pursuer. This proved impossible, as they seemed to have a unique gift for maneuvers. He finally chose to go out across the lake and open up, hoping to draw the other flier away from the school. This proved fruitless, as they simply pulled up by the bluff and waited.

This confirmed Eric's fear – whoever it was, they knew he was from Hogwarts. They probably knew who he was already. There was no sense in avoiding it, so he returned, choosing to land within the Quidditch pitch. The other flier drifted down across from him. In the bright moonlight he could make out that it was a woman. She was rather petite, and was wearing a flier's helmet with huge lenses, making her look suspiciously like an oversized insect.

"That was some pretty impressive flying!" She thrust out a hand to him. "Hi – I'm Adeline Hawkin."

Eric accepted the gesture hesitantly. "Seeker for the Wimbourne Wasps, and three time member of the England All-Stars."

She beamed a warm smile. "You've heard of me! Oh, it's so great to meet a fan. I have to admit that I'm quite an admirer of you, too."

Eric's eyes cocked slightly. "A fan of _mine_? I'm not exactly famous."

"You are Eric Sable, right? The boy who flew from London to the Quidditch World Cup? Who managed to find the site despite the Ministry of Magic's best obscurement charms – who managed the flight in less than three hours – who covered his tracks well enough not to be prosecuted?" At that she slung her arm about his waist, gently pounding his shoulder with her fist.

"Um, I am Eric Sable."

"I knew it!" Her voice carried the piercing notes of jubilation. "Hey – that's it, isn't it? That's the broom! It has to be with all that speed, yet you can still maneuver."

He decided that it wasn't worth the effort to hide any more. "It has an adjustable binding about the brush. The stirrups control the action – see? Pushing hard on them tightens the brush and focuses thrust, while letting up trades the speed for heightened agility."

She was clearly beside herself with glee. "How much would it take for you to make another one?"

"What?"

"How much for you to make another one? Every Quidditch team in the world league has one angle or another. There's no rule against a custom broom, since it takes such skill to control one. So; what'll it cost for you to make a special broom for me?"

Eric spent the next hour measuring her up and taking notes. It would be hard to get the supplies he'd need, but not impossible. He could go with an ebony shaft again, though the finished paint would have to match the black & yellow of the Wimbourne team. Though it would be a struggle, he promised to have the work done by Christmas, which would give her enough time to adjust to it's performance before the season started.

As she flew off, Eric couldn't help but think he'd gotten himself into yet another mess, when he was already far too overloaded. One day he'd find out what it was about him that couldn't resist a challenge.


	12. Chapter 12

Before long it was less than a week until school started again, and Hagrid still hadn't returned. Eric was more than a little surprised that Hagrid wasn't there, and that he didn't write regarding where he was going. As he began to think about it, he had lost touch with Hagrid a great deal of late. He couldn't help but feel guilty over it; Hagrid did raise him, and was as much a father as he ever knew. It was just that so many things were happening around him, he couldn't find time like he used to in order to keep in touch with his guardian.

The fact that he now had surviving family complicated the matter considerably. Thinking about it, he hoped more than anything that everyone would just back off for a few years until he turned eighteen. After that, there'd be no more talk of guardians, and he'd be in charge of his own affairs. When he finally came of age, he wouldn't be pushed and pulled by adults anymore – he could make his own decisions.

Eric was taking an afternoon mulling over all of this when a large owl, flanked by two burrow owls he recognized as his own, zipped overhead and dropped a letter addressed to him with a return address on Knockturn Alley.

Greetings Mister Sable.

It has been a while since we've been in touch. I hope you've kept up with your

studies. We will need to discuss your O.W.L.s, and what my expectations are

for you.

There is an upcoming meeting at 75 Knockturn Alley on August 30th, the Monday

before classes start again at Hogwarts. It is vitally important that you attend,

for you need to learn what has been going on while you have been out of

circulation. Do whatever you must to attend.

See you there,

Professor Corvin Frugilagus

The letter was a breath of fresh air for Eric. His professor hadn't forgotten about him or lost track of him. He wrote a letter to Mrs. Peal, explaining that he'd have to return to London that weekend in order to get his class supplies, and that his professor wanted to meet with him that evening. He then wrote another letter to Professor Frugilagus laying out what he was telling Mrs. Peal, so that the stories would match. Mounting up a broom, he shot his way over to the Hogsmeade post office, where he was greeted by a familiar face when he knocked on the door.

"What? Oh, it's you; the mishugina boy!" Avery Pyginwhol peeked out of the window. "Wha' do you want this time, a history of the town?"

Eric smiled to himself, strangely cheered that he was remembered. "No sir. I just want to mail these two letters." He set down several knuts to cover the charge.

The old man looked at the coins. "Pweeew! Tha's a lotta loose change for two letters, kid." His eyes surveyed the space just above his glasses. "You wanna tell me what you really want?"

Eric smiled slightly, pushing forward the letter to his professor. "Nothing much; I just want this letter to arrive two days before the other one."

Avery looked to him. "You gettin' crafty, kid... what're you up to?"

He sighed. "One of my professors wants me at a meeting, and I'm asking my guardian for permission. I just want my professor to be ready before my landlady asks."

"Ready to make up a good excuse, no doubt." Avery smiled and looked at the calendar. "Gettin' close to September already. There's a bunch of things that happens then." He then looked across the room to Eric. "This meeting your professor wants you at, it's not held at 75 Knockturn Alley, is it?"

Eric was torn for a moment. On the one hand, the meeting was beginning to sound clandestine. On the other, this was a chance to find out more about it. "Yes, sir."

Avery smiled. "Ok kid – I'll do your sneaky little favor. Only, you gotta tell me what happens at the meeting. Every detail. Got that?"

Eric flinched but nodded. "Um, ok. Can I ask why it's so important?"

The old man pointed a thumb at a stack of Daily Prophets. "Those over there? The only thing they're good for these last few months is for starting fires. I want to know what's really going on. The place you're going to is called The Rookery; and it may be the most notorious den of miscreants around; but if they're having a gathering, then that's the place to get the truth."


	13. Chapter 13

The weather that night was like a bad cliché; dark and stormy. Eric used floo powder to get from Hogsmeade to the Harveste Moon Apothecary. There he met up with Dorian, Tylena, Naomi, and Sheena. "I guess the Professor wants all of his students there?"

Sheena nodded. "Us, and all our predecessors. It looks like this is going to be a big night." She reached behind her and drew out a four-foot staff. "Take this."

Eric examined it, noting the intricate carving. It had a wide base, about eight inches of a carved grip, then roughly three feet of tapered length. He turned to Sheena. "Is this a wand?"

She nodded. "It's a Rukh Wand. A very powerful design meant strictly for combat. We shouldn't need it, but the Professor wants us to be able to defend ourselves."

Eric had heard about Rukh wands. The rukh feather that was the core of these wands was extremely conducive to gathering and directing immense amounts of magical energy. They were, however, notoriously hard to acquire and harder still to incorporate into a wand. Besides that, the wands that Sheena was handing out were some of the smallest possible. Rukh wands were usually at least six feet long, making them entirely impractical for normal use. They were weapons, and were good for little more.

The stepped out of the Moon's shop together, keeping the girls in the middle with Sheena taking point and Naomi following behind. Eric and Dorian flanked either side, watching for assailants. However, the usual corner denizens were not to be found, as the entire population of the alley was slowly filtering into a small, extremely dingy looking tavern.

The Rookery, however, was far more than it appeared. As the quintet moved past the outer room into the back, the corridor opened up to a vast meeting hall. The room appeared as a vast theatre, with a slightly apportioned stage in the front. Seats in both the mezzanine and the balcony were filled to capacity, and it was no small feat for the group to convince several attendees to clear five grouped seats; finally setting for three rows that offered two seats a piece.

The hall was a cacophony of sound that promised Eric a screaming headache in the morning. Yet after a few minutes a resounding chime could be heard over the din, calling everyone to silence. As Eric watched, three figures walked upon the stage. Eric was none too surprised to find that one was his teacher, Professor Frugilagus. The other two were new faces to him, but were apparently well known to the crowd. This was made plain to him when a rather elaborately dressed man called forth to the crowd. "The house recognizes the chairman for this evening, Lord Bradford Collins!"

Bradford Collins was a middle-aged man with a hook nose and straight black hair. As he stepped up to address the crowd, Eric was suddenly aware that there had to be an amplification spell on the area; the sound of his hand contacting the podium thundering through the room, giving evidence to what must have been a rather heavy ring on his hand. "Good evening, fellow Rooks. Tonight we replace rumor with fact, and misinformation with evidence. I will open our meeting with this simple yet powerfully disturbing statement: Lord Voldemort has returned."

Lord Collins tapped his ring on the podium several more times, creating the same effect as a gavel to silence the crowd. "Evidence of his rising power has been evidenced in happenings that have occurred over the course of the last four years. Four years ago, he entered Hogwarts wizarding school as a parasite upon the Dark Arts Defense teacher in order to bypass the school's defenses. Three years ago, a memory enchantment was used to attack the staff and students using the legendary Chamber of Secrets. Last year, a gathering claiming to be Death Eaters terrorized the Quidditch World Cup, only to scatter at the presence of the Dark Lord's true sign.

"Finally; In the last several months, young Harry Potter claimed to see the Dark Lord regain physical form. Now, any one of these instances could be taken as coincidence, mistake, or hysteria. However, if we take them together, it becomes clear that a force more malevolent than any we can condone is at work."

There was the sound of a knocking staff. Lord Bradford nodded. "Speak, for you are recognized."

A wispy, rat-faced man stood up. "If you speak the truth, and the Dark Lord has returned, why do we approach this with fear? Surely the reign of He-who-must-not-be-named would be a benefit to us!" Murmurs though the hall indicated a wave of agreement.

Again, Bradford nodded – this time at the Professor, who stood and took the podium. "I have no doubts that most of you see Lord Voldemort as a boon. He opposes the Ministry and the current order of things as many of you do. Using classical logic, you see the enemy of your enemy as your friend.

"The Dark Lord, however, is friend to no one. He seeks ultimate power and ultimate rule. Because you find yourselves often in opposition to the Ministry, you fail to see the benefits our current system offers. You see, the very rules that they seek to impose on us are the same rules they must also live by. There will be abuses – many of which have been occurring with more and more frequency of late. However, we can work to counteract this without deadly risk to ourselves.

"If the Dark Lord gains the power he has been seeking, those options will not be available to us. You all know that any who stood against him died – swiftly and painfully. Do you honestly think that if he held power over us, that any would have the benefit of a doubt if his anger was against us?" The hall broke into more murmuring, which Corvin allowed for a minute or so.

At length, he took a cane to the podium, knocking for attention again. "Our enemies tonight are threefold. First, we have the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters; they are weak, but the Ministry's current policy of denial will allow them to grow strong soon. Second, we have the Ministry; their blindness turns a form of paranoia against us as they seek to root out any who would disturb the status quo. Finally, we have the upstarts who would take this opportunity to carve out power for themselves. They are as dangerous as the previous two, especially on an individual level. They will damage any focused effort on either side, and the injury to bystanders will be considerable."

The Professor drew himself to his full height, seeking to impress the importance of his words on the crowd. "Understand this: what we shall ask of you tonight is nothing more than for you each to look out for his or her own best interests. Those interests are best preserved by maintaining the way things are; peaceful co-existence with each other and the Muggle World around us. Disturbance of this puts us each in constant jeopardy from far too many sources to defend against. We must band together as a community and pledge to watch out for one another until this crisis has ended."


	14. Chapter 14

Eric stood in the back of the hall, reviewing his notes from the meeting. The rest of the meeting was a presentation of evidence supporting the claims made, and suggestions of how the Knockturn Alley residents could watch after one another. Eric was busily pondering how difficult that would be when a familiar voice clearly spoke to him. "Buried in your thoughts?"

As Eric's head jerked upward, he found himself facing Rodney Wyndham, the Archivist of the Daily Prophet. "Um, a bit, sir. I was just examining my notes."

His face formed a gentle, if slightly crooked smile. "Excellent, my boy, excellent! You would make a top reporter; that is, if there was a newspaper worth having a top reporter these days." His eyes darted about and his mouth turned in a crook of frustration. "The Prophet sent me here to investigate a clandestine meeting – a pity I didn't find anything but unsupported rumors of a meeting that never took place." He placed a crooked cigar in his mouth while wiggling his eyebrows.

Eric thought for a moment, not wishing to appear naive. It then occurred to him that Rodney wasn't going to report anything said that night. "Sir – don't you think that people should know about this? I mean, if it's true."

"Oh it's true, my boy, it's true indeed. However, I can't report that anything happened here. The Ministry would kill the article instantly and clamp down tight against Knockturn's residents in response to such seditious actions." A drawl in his voice indicated what he thought of such an accusation. "The only way that anything discussed tonight has a hope of succeeding is if things are carried out in great secrecy. These people need to be careful, though. If the number of illegal incidents coming from Knockturn drops, even that would tell the Ministry that something's up."

Eric felt his chest deflate. "How are we ever going to survive this?"

Rodney patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Take heart – there's nothing more motivating than looking out for yourself. All these people are now thinking about how good things are compared to what they'd be if the Dark Lord was in charge. You'll quickly find most of these folks willing to watch over each other to protect their own backsides; just wait and see. Now, if you'll excuse me; I need to find a dark corner to drink away the rest of the night." Lighting up his cigar, he smiled as he left the hall.

Eric fell in with his friends, all of whom were waiting for the Professor to break from answering a myriad of questions. Finally, he joined his students. "Well, my pupils, the gauntlet has been cast. We should soon see developments from this."

Dorian replied first. "Professor, what makes you think that anything will result from this meeting?"

He smiled. "Because there were spies from the Ministry, the Death Eaters, and the Draconians all in the crowd. I know this because having such spies is what I would have done in their circumstances. We can expect the Ministry to intensify it's scrutiny of Knockturn under the guise of reducing crime. The Death Eaters will be seeking to intimidate the Alley's residents, while the Draconians will work more towards infiltration and subversion. Hopefully, we have gained enough allies tonight to counteract these threats, while others will see the truth in what we've said."

The professor drew his students aside. "Now, I wish to discuss your upcoming O.W.L.s with you."

Dorian was the first of them to speak. "Don't worry, Professor – we'll make you proud!"

Corvin shook his head. "Unfortunately, that is what you _must_ not do! I have heard rumors, which I cannot confirm at this time but which would follow the course of activities which have been progressing to this point. All I can say for sure is that you must not draw undue attention to yourselves. Pick topics based on what you wish to pursue, but be prepared to throw a subject or two if it feels prudent."

Heading back to the Dark Harveste Apothecary, Eric shook his head in frustration. The only thing he ever could do reliably was excel in his studies. This year, however, he was under instruction to avoid excelling. With everything else that had happened, this was lining up to be the worst year of his life.

"Buried in thought?" Sheena had come about to Eric's right side. "I know I'm glad that this is my last year at Hogwarts. Things are getting too weird rather quickly. I'm all for getting out into the real world. That reminds me – you owe me a favor!"

"Huh?"

"The World Cup, remember? I'd keep your secret, and you'd owe me a favor."

"Didn't do so well, though, did you? People found out."

Sheena smiled. "People may well suspect, or even find out. They can't, however, prove anything without my help. So: do I get my favor?"

Eric shrugged. "Sure. I said I'd do it, so what do you want?"

She straightened up proudly. "An invisibility cloak."


	15. Chapter 15

Eric was allowed one day at Diagon Alley prior to the start of term to get his class materials. This allowed him the train ride from London to Hogsmeade, which he rather enjoyed; aside from the one year that they were overrun by Dementors. The bay was it's usual gathering, except that Luna Lovegood was missing. Eric couldn't figure out where she would have gone to or why, but he was sure that he'd know soon enough.

He was musing this year's letter with some amount of concern. Along with the usual requirements, Professor Dumbledore had included a personal letter to him.

Mister Sable – I hope you are well.

With some reluctance, I must inform you that your fifth year at our school must follow

a more traditional path. That is to say, you must sign up for normal classes and attend

them as any ordinary student. I know you will find this to be a disappointment and a

frustration, but the reasons behind this will make themselves apparent soon enough.

I have no doubts that you will find matters acceptable, if not altogether satisfactory.

I can only ask for your understanding at this time, as other matters make it impossible

to explain further.

With Respect,

A.D.

With some extra information Dumbledore provided, Eric hastily cobbled together a workable class schedule. It was tight, leaving only one afternoon a week for studies with Professor Frugilagus – he hoped that the Headmaster let his professor in on this new development. The schedule did, however, cover all the topics he had been investigating. He couldn't help but wonder why it was that he had to change his study patterns. The timing fit uncomfortably well with Professor Frugilagus' warnings about the upcoming year. Something was happening, and it wasn't a change for the better.

Dorian looked over from the other bench. "Were you planning to share, or are you going to just keep scowling?"

Eric pondered for the right words. "Something's happening at the school. Everything points to it, but I can't figure out what it could be."

Naomi roused from her meditations. "Does it matter?"

Eric turned to her. "For as long as I can remember, I've been reacting to things. I'd like to face a problem with a plan ahead of time – just once."

Dorian took the lead. "How about this: we stick together, cover our tracks, hide the evidence and leave no one behind!"

It was several seconds before the silence was broken by Naomi's monotone, bearing just a hint of amusement. "It's a bit vague on the details, but he's got the right idea." With Tylena's nod it was settled. The four of them promised to stick together until they could deal with whatever was about to happen.

The rest of the train ride was a bit more pleasant, and the day unfolded as expected until the evening feast. First off, the Sorting Hat decided to put in it's take on current events, admonishing the school to unite in purpose. "As if that's ever going to happen", sneered Dorian who, despite being quite fond of a Slytherin student, never thought much of the house. Eric said nothing, but knew in his heart that if trouble was coming to Hogwarts, Slytherin house would welcome it with a red carpet.

The next surprise was the most unpleasant fact that Dolores Umbridge was taking up the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. Eric could see that there would be trouble brewing in that position when she interrupted the Headmaster in order to present the gathering of students with opening remarks. Actually, 'remarks' wasn't a proper description – she went into a modest lecture regarding how the school should be run, which many of the students found boring, belittling, or downright offensive. Education was going fine at Hogwarts; who invited her opinion?

It was clear, however, that the Ministry of Magic was behind it all, which meant that Eric and his friends would have to watch their collective backs quite closely. Glancing across to the Slytherins, Eric caught Sheena's gaze. She quietly nodded back; they'd have to meet tonight, for it was clear that Dolores Umbridge was going to be trouble.

It was unfortunate, therefore, that he had a Defense class the next morning. It was a single class, which suited Eric as he didn't want to seem interested in the subject. Dolores' appearance wasn't helping – her pink cardigan giving everyone the impression of a gigantic puffball.

"Good morning class!" Her far-too squeaky voice struck everyone as such a surprise that no one responded. "Oh, dear – I was hoping that my students would be more welcoming; now... _Good Morning Class!_"

"Good Morning, Professor Umbridge!" Eric could feel the irritation dripping from his peers. They were fifteen year old teenagers. These kinds of grade-school drills were unwelcome at half their age. At this point, they were intolerable.

"That's much better. Now; wands away and quills out, please." Everyone in the class knew that this meant reading – lots and lots of reading, with maybe some notes to be taken. Eric braced himself for the upcoming hour. It would be boring and tedious; but if he kept his head down, it would be endurable.

"I've reviewed the 'education' that students have received in this class. To be perfectly honest, the results have been less than the Ministry could hope for. While I appreciate that you are not the cause of this, it is you who would bear the consequences. Therefore, I have been charged to bring you back to the structured, theory-centered and Ministry-approved course of defensive magic that will prepare you for your upcoming O.W.L.s. Now: please copy down the objectives for this class." She tapped the blackboard, which dutifully listed her intentions – all of which seemed to take all the application out of magical defense.

After a few minutes, her annoying voice chimed again. "Has everybody got a copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard?" Several books were drawn out, and soon everyone had a book in front of him or her. "Now, students: how are we going to learn if we don't communicate? An appropriate answer to my question would be 'Yes, Professor Umbridge', or 'No, Professor Umbridge'. So: has everybody got a copy of _Defensive Magical Theory_ by Wilbert Slinkhard?"

"Yes, Professor Umbridge." ... _you babbling git!_ Eric decided that the potential for humor was needed if he was going to survive this class.

"Good. Turn to page five and read chapter one, 'Basics for Beginners.' There will be no need to talk." She settled behind her desk and began scanning the room, examining each student in turn. Eric was determined not to be her target again, so he dutifully reviewed the chapter. It wasn't long, however, before he felt his concentration slipping. It was all he could do to underline a few passages to note the jist of the text. If the O.W.L.s were requiring this kind of material, they were all in trouble. True, it was so basic everyone was far beyond it. However, it was so theoretical that Eric could feel his mind numb against the strain. This was the stuff you didn't think about while casting defensive spells; you'd be struck down long before you acted.

Eric, however, plodded through the hour without comment or action. He was really hoping to avoid anything that could have been construed as a confrontation, and he promised himself above all to behave. It was a shame that Professor Umbridge had other things in mind, stopping him after class. "Hem, hem – Mister Sable, I wish to speak with you."

Eric swallowed his first response before offering an alternate. "Professor, can this wait? I have double Divination to get to and the classroom is, well, a challenge to reach in time."

"What goes on with your next period is not my concern. I am, however, curious if you could answer my questions regarding your summer with any more detail." Her beady eyes locked fiercely onto Eric's face, searching it intently.

"I'm sorry, Professor, but as time goes on the details only get dimmer. To be honest, I'm really trying to forget the whole thing." He began to become anxious, for the delay was truly digging into time he needed to cross the school. "Please, Professor, I have to go."

"What you have to do, Mister Sable, is to learn manners." She quickly walked to her desk and hastily scribbled out a note. "You will see me at my office this evening no later than Four-Thirty. I have plans for this evening."


	16. Chapter 16

Eric objected strongly to Professor Flitwick, noting that he was being as polite as possible, but Professor Umbridge was making him late. However, it was no use. If a teacher feels justified in putting someone on detention, there was nothing that could be done.

He entered the Professor's office promptly. As she saw him, her face broke out into a fat, toadlike smirk. "Well, we are off to a good start – you know to be punctual." She directed him towards an alcove. "As much as I would like to dedicate a proper amount of time to this, I do have other demands. Please pick up these cases." As Eric began to do so, he noted that they each had to weigh about 50 pounds. "Now, please stand in the alcove, holding up the cases." She smiled as he did so, closing a rail in front of him.

He did his best to remain vertical, but it wasn't long before the weight of the cases dragged on his arms. Knowing full well that detention was often a trap, he carefully eased back to lean against the wall. He found his suspicions rewarded, however, by a burning sensation everywhere he touched the wall. This was made worse due to the fact that now he was off balance, and so he had to push himself away from the wall in order to straighten up even though that burned him even more. Now that he knew the rules, he did his best to keep straight, but to no avail. On a regular basis his knees gave way or he would tip one way or another. Each time Dolores scolded him for not standing straight. Within minutes much of his body bore long strips of scorched welts.

After what felt like an eternity ( though was little more than a quarter-hour ), the heat stopped and she called him away from the alcove. "Tut tut – I'm afraid we haven't learned much. If you were a polite boy, you would know how to ask nicely, and I would have let you put the cases down. But then, if you were a polite boy, you wouldn't be in this predicament."

She smiled a fat, condescending grin at him. "Don't you feel foolish?" Eric bit hard and nodded. "Well, at least there's hope for you. Remember the lesson this evening, and perhaps we won't repeat it, hmm?" Patting him on the shoulder, she opened her office door, indicating that he could leave.

Eric's burns screamed at him, all the more agonizing where they crossed the scars he received over the summer. He tried his best to get back to the Ravenclaw common room, but he didn't even make it to the main staircase before collapsing in pain. So it was in a side hallway that Dorian found him, along with a couple other Ravenclaw students willing to bring him back to the common room.

Naomi rushed to his side when she heard the commotion. She immediately sent one of the other girls to gather a black bag that was beside her bed. "Just relax. I can help you."

Dorian was less certain. "Shouldn't we take him to the hospital wing?"

She shook her head. "These injuries were the result of a detention. Madame Pomfrey will be reluctant to heal them." She began digging through her bag, drawing out salves and her wand. "She's afraid of Umbridge – they all are. Hmm, we'll need some extra aloe." Drawing over a scrawny potted plant, she drew out her wand and chanted. The plant expanded in size sevenfold within seconds.

Even with his pain, Eric couldn't help but notice. "That was impressive!"

Naomi smiled slightly. "Herbology is rapidly becoming my specialty." She set about healing the burns with potions and spells.

Dorian watched with concern. "I don't get it. How can a new professor just march in and disrupt everything?"

As the pain eased, Eric found his voice. "She's not just some new professor. She's an undersecretary from the Ministry. With the authority of the Ministry behind her, she could be an extremely dangerous person."

Naomi finished her work. "Are you all right?"

He smiled to her. "It feels a lot better, though I don't think I can make it back for supper."

Dorian piped up immediately. "We'll bring you back something. Why don't you just sleep it off?" He offered Eric an arm to help him back to the dormitories, which was gratefully accepted.

As she put away her supplies, Naomi looked over to Eric. "You know, if you cross her, it'll be worse next time."

He nodded back. "Don't worry. I promise to stay as far out of Dolores Umbridge's path as I can."


	17. Chapter 17

Monday brought news that made Eric's pledge seem far harder than anticipated. Dolores Umbridge was now the school's High Inquisitor; set in charge of overseeing educational standards. "High Inquisitor? What kind of job is that?"

Naomi smartly responded. "It means that the school is about to undergo the Inquisition. You can expect torture, interrogation for the sake of intimidation, and burning at the stake." She then gave a slight smirk. "Look on the bright side. As long as she's trying to beat down all the teachers at Hogwarts, she won't have time to pursue you."

Her assessment proved true enough, for that week Eric found he could traverse the school unhindered again. This was a relief, as his meetings with Professor Frugilagus would be that much easier, and he didn't want complications. Fortunately, his childhood in the school proved invaluable in providing routes to and from the dungeons unseen by Caretaker or Prefect. Eric made a point of offering his fellow Advance Studies classmates their own route, so that at least they couldn't be made to betray one another.

Corvin Frugilagus was very happy to see his class. "With the new High Inquisitor, it would be quite understandable if you all decided not to take the risk. However, with such things going on, I hope you'll agree that actions such as ours are more important than ever."

With that he began to lead them in combative spell training. Eric very quickly realized why the sword practice with Sheena was so important. The thrust and countermove of offensive and defensive spells were, in essence, very similar to the strike and parry moves of swordplay. This was far better than any dark arts defense class he had taken before, for the spells he learned now were no longer the tickling, ridiculing spells that were the accepted norm. These spells sought to shield against magic itself, or to strike at an opponent with pounding force. These spells didn't pleasantly incapacitate – these spells injured.

There was no casting as such this day – Corvin was concerned about the noise arousing suspicion. Eric, however, noted that there was a passageway out to a clearing in the Forbidden Forest. They could practice spells there without fear of discovery. The professor agreed to investigate, and class was dismissed.

Eric, however, did not return to the school's upper floors. He cut over to his old workshop, where two golden snidgets were still nesting. He had spent several days over the weeks since he had returned preparing for this task. Before him were seven small stone sculptures of curious beasts. They would serve nicely.

Raising his wand and spiraling it through intricate patterns, he recited a final passage. "_Saxi Sculptura – ad rem religare animare!"_ Sparkling light burst from his wand, spinning about the small statues. Within moments they began to move, then they all looked to him attentively. "You are my gargoyles; defenders of what little is mine. You are to guard this place such that none but I and those I bring may enter. You are to allow the small birds in that ledge to come and go, but any that is man or creature that would harm them is to be repelled. Do you understand your charge?" They all dutifully nodded. Then find posts that suit yourselves and take them."

The four smallest statues took positions around the opening the snidgets came and left by. Two larger dragon-like beasts took side positions by the door, while the last, most contemplative one simply sat himself on the workbench, watching the others. Whether he was the brains of the group or the laziest one, Eric would find out in time.

Everything seemed to be working fine, so Eric left his stone servants to their work. He could improve them over time; make them more intelligent, grant them greater abilities to judge a threat. For now it was enough that his storeroom was guarded. He had stowed his brooms and the Rukh wand in there, and he had no desire for Professor Umbridge to stumble across them. As long as she doesn't look, he might be able to come up with some kind of contingency in case she came across the room. For now, seven gargoyles – even small ones – are more than a match for any wizard. If she came across the room, she would have a real good reason to leave it alone.

As he left the storeroom, a thought came to him. Working his way through the service corridors, he eventually came out in the kitchen where, to his amusement, there was a clutch of house elves watching Willy prepare a stew for the evening. A number of them were completely aghast that he didn't follow an established recipe, but a few minutes of observation ( and a whiff of steam from the pot ) assured Eric that the results would be more than satisfactory.

"Master Eric – you've come to see Willy!" The elf pushed aside his fellows to charge his way across the kitchen. "Willy has been so worried, with that horrible fat woman here."

Eric patted his friend's head. "I've been worried about you too, but what are you doing here? I thought I told you to stay with the Peals."

Willy shook his head. "When Willy heard that the nasty Minister was here, Willy had to come to help. Mister Lymeon said I could come."

Eric sighed. "Well, if Mister Peal said you could, then I suppose it's all right. I take it you've been keeping out of sight?"

The elf nodded. "I've kept to the kitchen preparing meals. Everyone seems very happy with me here, and _she_ takes no interest in the workings of the school; only the professors."

Eric nodded. "Well I tell you, my friend: expect things to get worse before they get better. You have the right idea staying down here – I only wish I could join you." The elf's beaming smile was enough to brighten this day. "Now, I came to warn you: I had to form guardians for my storeroom – Gargoyles." The elf's flinch confirmed Eric's suspicions. "Right; protective to the point of being downright nasty. You can't go in there without me, understand?"

"Oh, absolutely, young master. Only, how will Willy care for the birdies?"

Eric sighed – already there was something he didn't think of. "Well, I can alter the defense command to allow for you. Just give it a week or so for these enchantments to settle in, first. Ok?" Willy's enthusiastic nod eased his mind. "Thanks for reminding me. I have to get back upstairs; if _she's_ looking for me, I'll already have been missed."

Fortunately for Eric, he didn't appear to be a priority for Dolores at this point. The Ministry Professor had been spending the week investigating teaching methods at the school by sitting in on classes and asking rather barbed questions. He had noted that a number of teachers ( particularly those the students liked ) were visibly shaken after her visits.


	18. Chapter 18

As Friday afternoons were open time for him, he decided to visit Professor Trelawney. Like the other teachers, she had been quite shaken this last week by Dolores' visit. This troubled Eric especially; for unlike his peers, he was extremely fond of the professor. Sybill Trelawney may not have been the world's most competent prognosticator ( indeed, she wasn't much of a prognosticator at all ), but to one who actually had a second sight of a sort, she was a more than capable tutor and a good friend.

Unfortunately, she was exactly in the state he anticipated. "Oh, Eric: it was awful! She knows, she knows I'm a fraud!" She slumped down into a pillowed chair and began to sob.

"Um, Professor? Everybody knows you're a fraud; you admitted as much yourself." He poured her some tea before sitting down in front of her.

She smiled slightly. "It must be nice not to understand. She's going to force Dumbledore to fire me. Even if the Headmaster refused, she has the Ministry behind her. There's no way that I'll be able to stay without demonstrating some ability."

Eric began to stammer. "But – it's like you said; it's not what you can do, it's what you can teach. Watch!" He drew out a new crystal ball and set it before him. With the slightest effort, images began to form. "There's Hermoine Granger – she's at her SPEW business again. You'd think with as smart as she is, she could take a hint!" He closed his eyes, then focused again. "Now we have the curmudgeonly Mr. Filch, fussing at the house-elves while they try to clean the main hall."

Sybill smiled. "You really shouldn't talk about our caretaker that way, especially in front of a teacher." Her smile, however, demonstrated how happy she was that he felt close enough to her to be informal.

Eric squinted again. "There she is – the dire bat of the hour!" Dolores Umbridge sat plumply in his vision. "Writing a letter... no doubt to her real boss. Let's see:

To Cornelius Fudge, Minister of Magic

Greetings sir!

It is as you indicated – the school is overrun with incompetent teachers. So far,

of all the instructors I've spoken with, only Professor Severus Snape has offered

both the co-operation and the competence that we require. Most of the other

instructors are either too incapable or too loyal to the headmaster to be of

service. The caretaker, however, appears eager to assist me in my efforts to

bring order to the school. I would consider putting him in charge of discipline,

if I didn't feel his inability to use magic would jeopardize my authority.

Regarding your request, I am making a point to single out Harry Potter and his

friends. They have continued to live up to their past errors, and have failed to

learn from early attempts to discipline them. I regret to inform you that your

desire to reform Mister Potter, thereby ending his disruptive activities will prove

unattainable. I will, however, continue in my efforts so long as you wish me to.

Professor Dumbledore remains inaccessible. As he is the Headmaster, he knows

the particular ways through the school that I, to date, do not. I am certain that you

are correct in suggesting that he is planning to foster civil unrest, but I have not

been able to obtain any clues regarding it's nature. I will advise when this

changes.

Finally, I request your permission to seek just cause to formally expel Eric Sable.

He is a disruptive influence, and his continued presence at Hogwarts will only

encourage others to challenge my authority. He must be put aside to discourage

others from following his example.

I look forward to your reply, and remain in your service.

Dolores Umbridge, Deputy Minister and High Inquisitor

Eric backed away from the vision, letting it fade. "Well, it seems that instructors aren't the only ones on the High Inquisitor's hit list. She's after me, too!"

Professor Trelawney turned to him. "That's foolishness! Whatever for?"

He smiled. "I'm 'a disruptive influence', and apparently a threat to her authority."

She set her hand lightly on his shoulder. "Dear boy, what are you going to do?"

Sighing a bit, he reassured her. "The only thing I can do – stay out of sight and out of trouble. She may be able to throw her ... well, extremely massive weight around; but it'll be a plague of trouble if she expels a student without cause. I'll just have to make sure she doesn't find one."

The professor took him by the shoulders. "No Eric; _we'll_ make sure she doesn't find a reason. You have a tendency to take on a great deal by yourself, but there's no reason for you to face this alone when there's so many of us who want to help you."


	19. Chapter 19

October began, entertainingly enough, with the first visit to Hogsmeade. As he headed for the carriages, Eric could sense _Professor _Umbridge ( reminding himself of how loose that term was used ) staring straight at him. He had spent the few spare moments he had the last several weeks diligently practicing his clairvoyance, with the school's new High Inquisitor as his subject. He had reached the point where he could sense her presence around corridors and down hallways; more than enough warning to avoid contact, or at least enough to avoid doing anything suspicious with her around.

His shoulders began to relax as he made his way towards the village. As much as he could tell, he wasn't being watched anymore. It really didn't matter, for he didn't have any set plans. It was simply a day with Naomi enjoying simple things like butterbeer and books. He did have one stop he wanted to make, but it wouldn't last long. Hopefully, Naomi would understand.

The day was indeed the best that Eric could remember. First was a brief stop to the post office to meet Mister Pyginwhol briefly. His supply orders had finally come in, which meant he could begin building up Hawkin's broom. The wizened old man greeted him fondly. Noting Naomi next to him, he whistled in admiration. "I underestimated you, boy! You snared a real beauty here!"

Feeling Naomi's discomfort, Eric tried to smooth the situation. "Um, I wouldn't have said 'snared'..."

The old man waved his hand. "Hey, just kidding! An old man has to have fun somehow, eh?"

Eric smiled lightly. "Yes sir."

Eric tried to shrug off Avery's comments as they moved on to the Three Broomsticks. Naomi was saying something about 'Doro Cakes', and how Eric just had to try them. Although his first bite was less than impressive ( tasting only slightly more appetizing than dried sawdust ), the experience was quite different once they were dipped in milk; as a thick, sugary sweetness filled his mouth. He made himself stop at two, as the flavor was uncomfortably addicting.

As they headed over to Dervish & Banges, they were stopped by Dorian and Tylena; who were more than a little excited. "Come on – we've got to get to the Hog's Head."

Eric backed up slightly. "What on earth could be over there?"

"Harry Potter's starting a Dark Arts Defense Club! You want to join, don't you? It'd be totally wicked – we'd be the best in the group!"

Naomi looked down the main street to where the Hog's Head sat. "Wouldn't the new High Inquisitor have something to say about that?"

Dorian drew his friends together. "Not if she doesn't know about it – and she won't so long as everyone keeps their word. This is a chance to help everyone else... seriously, if we're the only ones who can defend against the dark arts, we're in a dangerous business. If everyone knows, we'll all be much safer. Eric; what do you say?"

Eric turned to his friend. "Another time, it could have been great; but Dolores is watching everybody. Harry and I are under special scrutiny. If he wants to pull a stunt like that: great. It means less pressure for the rest of us. I wish him the best of luck, but if lightning strikes somewhere, it'd be nice if it were somewhere that I'm not standing."

Tylena turned to Dorian. "Eric's right. We've gotten away as long as we have because it's just us five. We're careful, and we've practiced stealth long before Dolores Umbridge came along. She may be keeping an extra close watch on Eric, but he knows the school better than anyone." She shook her head briefly. "If we join with others, we'll all be just one big target."

Eric took Naomi's hand. "We were heading over to Dervish and Banges. Want to come?" The group of them headed up the street, returning to an afternoon of shopping. The idea of joining Harry's defense club never came up again.


	20. Chapter 20

Halloween week was disappointingly dull this year. Most of the usual tricksters came to realize the dangers of disrupting order with an Inquisitor around, even for fun ( or more likely, especially for fun ). Eric, however, didn't really have pulling pranks on other students in mind. This Halloween was going to be special.

He had spent months researching what had happened to him during the summer. There were two possible conditions that would have caused his transformation. The first was that he had somehow become an animagus, with the beast being an odd definition of what he thought he needed. The second was that the Romul bloodline was awoken in him, and the beast was a distorted werewolf.

There was one sure way to find out. Waiting until full darkness, he made his way secretly to Hagrid's abandoned hut. After propping up a mirror and making sure that no one was watching, he concentrated on how it felt to change. For a few seconds, it seemed like nothing was happening, then suddenly he found himself tangled in his clothes. After tearing his way out he looked to the mirror, relieved at what he found. The wolf was a dark grey and evenly formed – fine and muscular. He was rather disappointed that his clothes didn't shift with him, but he learned what he needed. He was a blood werewolf, and he seemed to have control over himself.

A rustling sound warned him that someone was coming. Looking about the house, he saw Dolores Umbridge heading for the hut. Eric scrambled to push his belongings into a bush, but thankfully she didn't come about the hut. Rather, she began to sneak her way towards the front door. _"Alohomora."_ The door's lock dutifully gave way, and in she crept.

Eric couldn't believe that this breach of privacy was abiding by any rules – not at this late hour, anyway. This left him with some entertaining options. Turning back to the mirror, he focused his thoughts on Dolores, and how much he wanted to just make her miserable. His insight was rewarded as his nose shortened to a pug snout and his forepaws developed daggers for claws. The beast was back, and it was time to play.

His first move was to sneak up to the door. He didn't want to alert her unnecessarily. Creeping in, he found her rummaging through Hagrid's makeshift desk, cursing the clutter with a constant mutter. "There must be something here, something!" With both her hands in the desk, it meant her wand was clear.

Eric started with a low growl, building up to a snarling hiss. Dolores turned about slowly, her eyes suddenly growing to the size of saucers when she spotted him. He decided to keep going, snapping and snarling at her. He narrowly avoided actually biting her as she tried to move to get her wand, getting a mouthful of pink cardigan instead. Eric decided to make the best of it, tearing off the pink fluff and ripping it to shreds while she made a terrified exit. In the process he found her wand, but decided that breaking it would seem too deliberate. Leaving behind tattered pink shreds, he went back behind the hut.

Transforming back to a human was easier than Eric had expected. It seemed that being rather satisfied with the evening's doings gave him enough peace to settle himself. After a minute he was done hastily dressing himself to return to the Ravenclaw dormitories. The only pause in his movements was to avoid Professor Umbridge as she led a gathering of instructors back to Hagrid's hut. "You'll see. That giant halfwit has been breeding lupine monsters – expressly forbidden by the Ministry!"

However, the only thing that came of it was an announcement at breakfast the next morning. It seemed that the werewolves of the Dark Forest were becoming bolder recently, and students were strongly advised to remain indoors after dark. There was, of course, no change in the Dark Arts Defense class despite this event. Even the pink cardigan remained constant, though Eric doubted that his efforts would have mattered. He pictured the Mighty and Dreaded High Inquisitor having a dozen fluffy pink cardigans all stuffed in a padded and doilied trunk somewhere.


	21. Chapter 21

The days rolled by as Eric, Naomi, and their friends did their best to continue their studies under increasing scrutiny. Eric's studies with Professor Trelawney took an increasingly desperate tone, as the Professor was under probation. Their diligence paid off as Eric became capable of doing more and more through the crystals. Soon, he was contacting Sybill from across the school, his crystal providing a clear and sharp image of his teacher. Eric's efforts were all driven towards one goal; to prove that, though Professor Trelawney was many things, she was not a failure. It was rather a surprise, then, when he found that she did not share his aspirations.

Eric sat in her classroom, sinking into several rather over-stuffed pillows. "I don't get it. Are you saying that you _want_ to be fired?"

The Professor drew out a small bowl. Pouring water into it, she motioned for him to look into it. "Find Professor Umbridge and tell me what she's doing."

It took him barely a moment. "Would you believe that she's giggling? That woman doesn't have an ounce of dignity. Let's see...

To the High Inquisitor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

I have confirmed your comments regarding the challenges you have faced in

dealing with the students at Hogwarts. As it is important for you to maintain

order, please post the following:

EDUCATIONAL DECREE #25

The High Inquisitor will henceforth have supreme authority over all

punishments, sanctions, and removal of privileges pertaining to the

students of Hogwarts, and the power to alter such punishments, sanctions,

and removals of privileges as may have been ordered by staff members.

Signed,

Cornelius Fudge

Minister of Magic, Order of Merlin First Class, Chairman of the Wizengamot

Eric closed his eyes. "Well, that's just bloody awful! That hag is going to have a field day with the students of this school... and we can't even warn anyone! If I do, it'll be proof I've been spying on her." He slumped down, shoulders bowed with a heavy weight of defeat and frustration.

Sybill smiled slightly. "Eric, listen carefully. As far as losing my job goes; that it's an inevitability. Although I've managed to train several successful precognitives, as well as many students like yourself with diverse clairvoyant abilities, I have no such abilities myself – at least, none that I can summon on command. This makes me an embarrassment to the Headmaster, and anything the Ministry can use against Professor Dumbledore will be used to it's fullest advantage."

She then took his hands and fixed his face in her gaze. "Eric, you are my masterpiece. You've developed your gifts into a highly successful talent, and I'm so proud to be a part of that. They can take away my tenure, my classes, and even what little respect I get for being a teacher; but they can't take away the fact that I've fostered the most powerful clairvoyant this school has seen in a hundred years."

Being a professor's star pupil made up for the increasing amount of effort he had to put into his activities. The fact that Hagrid finally returned to the school was another plus. However, as the weeks went by, he found his foster father to be strangely distant. The activities and changes in Eric's life in the last few years were pulling the two of them apart. Eric wanted to change that, but there seemed to be nothing he could do.

Hagrid was up to something. The increasing number of bruises he carried as the weeks went by suggested to Eric that he had finally befriended something that could injure him. It took a few weeks, but his concern for Hagrid finally overcame his reluctance. Shortly before the Christmas break, he spent the night with his crystal on a stand in front of him. Answering the few people that asked with a lame excuse regarding extra credit, he observed Hagrid as he traveled into the Forbidden Forest with a large rucksack.

Hagrid's secret, though, was a greater surprise than he could imagine. He was deep in the forest when he came upon a clearing. There, bound with ropes, was an eighteen foot tall figure with a dusting of snow on him. If the giant noticed, he didn't indicate being concerned. When Hagrid came, though, the giant roused with a roar, then proceeded to struggle against the ropes while Hagrid tried to calm him down. This had the opposite effect, until one of the ropes gave way and one of his arms flew into Hagrid's chest, knocking him back a couple dozen feet into a tree.

Suddenly, the giant sat still, his face a sagging mass of regret. Hagrid was more than patient, though, quickly forgiving the giant and turning out the rucksack which it turned out was filled with food. Hagrid sat and patted the giant's bound arm while he ate, trying repeatedly to teach him English words. It was clear from the conversation that Hagrid understood and could speak giant; a detail which made sorting out the situation impossible.

At length the giant yawned, clearly tired. In this state, he barely noticed as Hagrid re-secured the ropes before falling again on his side and snoring. Gathering up the empty sack, Hagrid started on the path back to the school. Eric ended the spell, having learned as much as he could. He had no idea how to bring this up with Hagrid; for although spying on people this way was becoming a habit, it was universally frowned upon as a basic breach of privacy and trust.

Eric decided instead to leave the matter lie, and allow Hagrid the room he needed to do whatever he had to. At some point he wanted to restart his relationship with his guardian, but that would have to wait. Aside from the increasing hostile atmosphere that was encompassing Hogwarts, there was something coming. Eric couldn't figure out what, but something very powerful and very dark was on the horizon. There was no point in wasting effort, he needed to prepare.


	22. Chapter 22

As the winter break drew close, Eric discretely moved a number of items from his room and shop down to the Chamber of Secrets. Being a chamber that was off of the school plans, it would hopefully prove to be the last place that Dolores would look for a secret lair. It had been discovered and dismantled two years ago; hopefully that was time enough for the ministry to forget.

Eric took no chances, though. He sealed off the traditional entrance to the chamber. If Professor Umbridge sought to use it, she would find that it wouldn't open. All spells cast upon it would indicate that access had been sealed off; which was true, for Eric took brick and mortar to the back side of the entrance, filling it in with cement and using a _triomaigh_ spell to dry it. To all appearances, the entrance was physically sealed years ago.

When the other students left for the season, he found himself at the school alone. Hagrid was still very much involved with the giant in the forest. Willy was involved with the winter cleaning crew, polishing and cleaning everything while the students are away. The Christmas decorations reflected the flickering candlelight; appearing surreal in the relative emptiness of the great hall. Eric especially liked to sneak back to the hall late at night to take in the sight in the darkened room. The beauty and quiet offered him a few moments of delightful tranquility.

Eric had dispatched a letter to Adeline Hawkin a week before. The broom was ready for final fitting, since if it was going to be a real custom job it would have to be fit to her. He arranged to meet her outside of Hogsmeade, since he didn't want anyone to see him working as a broomsmith. Dolores Umbridge was far too clever to be fooled, and she was the first to accuse him after the World Cup incident.

Seeing Adeline's face after trying out the broom, however, made it worthwhile. Based on the first set of measurements, it almost fit perfectly. He only had to adjust the pillowing spell slightly ( she liked a firmer seat ). "It's perfect!" She gave Eric a quick hug. "I can't thank you enough – I'll be a star for sure this year."

She could quickly see that she made Eric uneasy. "Hey, don't be like that. Most teams ride custom brooms. I simply found one that would make one that I could afford. It's still skill against skill, in the end."

Eric nodded, not sure that he accepted her story. However, it was a good fee that would keep him out of debt to the Peals for the rest of his stay at Hogwarts. He could hardly refuse the opportunity.

As the winter break progressed and the staff milled about, Eric decided to help out a bit. Realistically, he had nothing better to do. This changed one day while he unloaded supplies that were sledded in from Hogsmeade, and he was noticed by the driver. "Excuse me; you're Eric Sable, aren't you?"

He turned to the driver uncertainly. "Um, do I know you?" The driver did look familiar, but he couldn't place the face.

The driver smiled. "Robert Banges, of Dervish & Banges; Hogsmeade's quality magic supply store."

Then Eric remembered. "Oh, yes. I commandeered a broom from your shop. Sorry."

Robert smiled. "Not at all. That was quite a rescue, if I understand the tale correctly." He hopped off the sled. "Actually, you have a bit of a reputation around town as a very capable student. I wonder if you'd be willing to do a job for us."

Eric was feeling uneasy about this. "What kind of job, exactly?"

He leaned against the sled, looking to see if anyone was watching. "Well, Hogsmeade has been plagued with a series of problems recently. Everything points to some kind of magical creature causing trouble, but no one can find it. Now; you've assisted both the Magical Creatures instructors the school's had, and have been a resident for your whole life, right? We figure whatever it is probably isn't too much, so you should be able to handle it. What do you say?"

Eric thought for a moment. "Why wouldn't you ask one of the instructors, or the school headmaster?"

"Honestly, the new deputy headmaster has the town in a bit of a fuss. We'd rather not have anything official to do with Hogwarts at the moment; aside from the usual, that is."

Eric could understand that. "I'll come with you when you leave. If anyone asks, I'm helping with the supplies."

Robert grinned widely. "Thank you so much!"

Before leaving, Eric called his owls. He hadn't been doing so much with them lately, and they needed the exercise. Midget was the first to arrive, though Widget followed almost immediately after. They both settled into his cloak without a fuss. Eric was extremely pleased, as they would be indispensable in tracking down a magical beast.

Truth be told, Eric was looking forward to seeing Hogsmeade decorated for Christmas. He wasn't disappointed. Lights, garland and tinsel was everywhere. Everyone was trying a bit harder to be pleasant to others, even the goblins. All the shops were decorated in red and green with candles burning in every color imaginable. It was impossible to look onto this scene without feeling festive.

However, Eric wasn't there for the festival. He followed Robert into his shop, setting himself by a crate. "Now, what kind of problems are you having?"

"Well, they're not serious – rather petty, in fact. That's why we don't think it's the work of wizards or goblins. They'd do worse." He drew a simple map. "First it was Madam Puddifoot's, then Scrivenshaft's, then Gladrags, then Zonko's."

Eric nodded. "It'll be after Honeydukes next. It's working it's way from building to building." He gathered his owls and a spool of binding yarn. "This should be quick."

As he went over to the sweet shop, a chill struck his spine. There was a chance – a small but very real chance – that he was responsible for the town's problem. In a way he hoped it was true, for that meant that the problem was indeed small.

Entering the sweet shop, he immediately walked to the counter. "Sir, can we clear the shop for a minute?"

The storekeeper was confused. "Excuse me?"

Eric bent forward and whispered. "Sir, I think you have a pest. I'm here to get rid of it." He straightened back up. "Should take no more than three minutes."

The shopkeeper quickly ushered his customers out the door, then locked it so that he could watch Eric as he released his owls. The two darted quickly about the shop before focusing in on one particular corner. Stepping towards it, he found himself facing a familiar figure who was nervously sucking on a candy cane.

Eric couldn't help but be relieved. "Hi Blue."

The Cornish Pixie looked up, then smiled, waving his prize.

Eric shook his head. "You can't stay here. You need to stay in the forest."

The pixie stuck his tongue out as he made a bitter face.

"Boring, huh?"

It looked up and nodded.

Eric sighed. "Ok, I'll find you a place in the school, but you have to behave – or at least keep your mischief to a minimum. We've got a deputy headmaster, and she's a real monster."

The pixie nodded in agreement.

Eric drew out the yarn. "Ok, now I'm going to wrap you up with this."

The pixie shook his head violently.

"It's the only way to get you out of here. If I don't, a dozen shopkeepers will try to bash you to bits."

The pixie resigned itself to be wrapped securely. Eric took the bundle to show to the shopkeeper. "Somebody must have lost track of this one. I'll see about getting him home." He returned to the school with the pixie in his pocket, before releasing it in the dungeons. "Now, stay out of trouble, and I'll see what we can do about keeping you entertained." As the pixie smiled and flew off, Eric couldn't help but grow more anxious about the possibilities.

Eric remembered a poem he had heard. It was a Muggle rhyme that began, "Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house...". Even with magic, though, he couldn't bring himself to believe in a fat saint flying around in a sleigh pulled by eight diminutive deer. There were, after all, so many more direct methods to accomplish the task.

The rhyme, though, was accurate in describing the stillness that fell on everything on Christmas Eve. This was why it was the perfect time for him to descend into the Chamber of Secrets. A quick scrying found the Deputy Headmistress pouring over student records, but most everyone else was tucked in and asleep. Eric decided on the 3rd floor to dungeon access in order to reach the school's foundation. It was the long way, but the best for avoiding detection.

Within the ancient dungeon lay the class areas that Eric and his friends made of the trap rooms which held the Philosopher's Stone and Salazar Slytherin's Chamber of Secrets. Over the last couple of months Eric had moved most of his property, especially the most incriminating items, down to the Chamber for storage. As he looked about it now, a thought struck him. This was the _Chamber of Secrets_; how could it be called that if all it held was the basilisk?

It took three hours of diligent searching, but at length he found what he was looking for. The first side room he found was an extensive library on topics that would largely be considered restricted, if not banned outright. There were tomes on mind control, invisibility, and a variety of subjects steeped in dark magic. The second held a variety of strange components. While most of them were rotten or spoiled, the indicators of what the bottles once held were clear enough.

The last room was right where he expected it – with entrances at either side of the great statue. Taking great care to avoid any traps, Eric examined the laboratory of Salazar Slytherin with intense interest. Before him was every last instrument of magical study that he could ever hope for. At the far side of the room was a cage; at the bottom rested the fossilized remains of an egg and the scattered bones of a large toad. This was where the curse of Salazar Slytherin, and who knows how many other diabolical plots, was literally hatched.

As Eric looked about, he heard a small buzzing. Over his shoulder hung Blue, looking at all the gleaming instruments with glee. "Christmas came early for us, buddy! Careful for the traps." Eric quickly made his way out of the room while the pixie dashed about. The damage that he was going to cause was unfortunate, but there was little that could hurt him. Within a few days the room would be safe to enter.


	23. Chapter 23

Christmas in the Ravenclaw common room was quiet. It was no surprise that it was well after dawn before Eric awoke. As he started down the stairs, he found a tray with covered dishes. Although he was busy with Winter cleaning, Willy apparently made some time to leave Eric a Christmas breakfast. He had a few presents, too. Hagrid had gotten him a copy of Reecl Clawe's _Draconian Lexicon_, considered the reference book by which all others on the subject were measured. Professor Trelawney also sent Eric a present – a small armillary sphere. Even though it was probably inaccurate, Eric loved the clockwork mechanisms within it.

The presents from his family were slightly more welcome. Clareone sent some money, with a polite suggestion that Eric should consider his appearance. Lymeon sent along a selection of teas, along with a pouch of instant lemon slices. Naomi's gift to him, however, was the most confusing: a small box with a card that read "For when you think of me."

Inside the box was a pendant – a crystal held in a three-toed claw. Eric was rather relieved at it's appearance; at least it wasn't frilly. He hesitated for only a moment before putting it on. As he started to think of Naomi, the room suddenly shifted. He could no longer see the Ravenclaw common room. Instead, the Wainwright parlor room was slowly shifting about him. He could see Roger and Dorothy, who were entertaining a number of guests. He could smell Norman's cooking in the background, which left him longing for London. The room continued to shift uncontrollably until it settled on a small mirror. In it he could see Naomi looking back at him, smiling slightly.

It took a good deal of concentration and no small amount of regret to break the link. He sat for several minutes pondering the gift Naomi gave him; a path into her mind. Clearly she trusted him more than he ever imagined, for such items could be brutally abused. He'd have to protect it, especially now with Professor Umbridge getting into everything. Eric hoped that Naomi liked the gift he got her. He didn't know too much about buying gifts for people as it was, and he wanted hers to be special.

He bundled his gifts tightly, then set about making his way to the dungeons. Blue had spent several days in Slytherin's laboratory. With luck, it was now safe to enter. When he finally made his way to the Chamber of Secrets, he found the pixie pouring a thick, red mixture on the nose of Salazar's immense statue. It had already given the stone face green eyes and blue hair, with the result looking incredibly clownish.

Standing in one of the entryways, Eric cast every decoy spell he could think of. When nothing responded, he went in. True to a pixie's nature, things were mostly a shambles; but much of it was recoverable. In a few short weeks he'd have his own lab to develop new spells, potions, and magical items. He knew what his first project would be almost immediately: Sheena's cloak of invisibility. Although his research was fairly complete, he hadn't made any physical progress on it for some time, and the materials needed to cure.

He was two weeks into the project when everyone returned from break. It didn't take long for Eric to find Naomi, and to notice that she was wearing his gift; a new set of mirrored glasses.

She came up to him at once, kissing him lightly on the cheek. "Thank you – they're wonderful!"


	24. Chapter 24

The next two months burst by rapidly, with everyone was studying diligently for their OWLs while the Ministry tightened it's grip on the school until it became a chokehold. Eric could tell that Harry Potter and his friends were still up to their group meetings. He did what he could to support them, ordering Willy to keep the entrance to the Room of Requirement discreet while directing Blue into mischief before and after meetings so that their passing would be unobserved. The pixie's antics were largely blamed on Peeves the Poltergeist, whom Eric also enlisted whenever he could.

It honestly felt good to be doing something supporting – it was as much as he could do, though no more. He knew that he was being watched by Inquisitor Umbridge, even if she focused most of her time on Harry's triad and the faculty. He knew he could get into trouble with the Ministry, but he had been quiet for seven months, and it was beginning to grate on him.

The beginning of March was noted with the release of a special edition Quibbler which contained an interview with Harry, allowing him to state his version of the end-of-term happenings and the return of Voldemort. The Quibbler was little more than a trash rag, which was as much regard as he could give it, even though the editor's daughter was one of his close friends. However, having some other version of events besides the Daily Prophet's clearly biased point of view made the magazine extremely popular.

How popular Eric wasn't aware of until he was approached by several students, lead by Fred and George Weasley. It seemed that the Quibbler had been banned from the school, and everyone was dying to know why. "It's up to you, mate! You know as much about moving things in and out of Hogwarts as anyone. We're too busy with our own projects, so you can be the hero!"

Eric was more than dubious about the title of 'hero', but it was a simple enough thing to do. Midget was dispatched to Hogsmeade mid-morning with a missive to Mr. Pyginwhol, while Widget was sent to Hardbinder's Books. Blue provided the noontime distraction that allowed Eric access to the lower chambers, where his brooms were waiting. Arriving at the post office, he found a clerk from Hardbinder's turning over a bundle of magazines to Avery, who was binding them tight.

It was an expensive gamble, but a galleon purchased the bundle for the school, which was quickly smuggled back in for equal distribution among the houses. Sheena and Tylena would get the materials into Slytherin house, denying all involvement once the magazines were in place. All the other houses were more than generous with their donations for the opportunity to read the banned article. It was a substantial profit which Eric shared equally with his friends.

The other bonus to the action was the malicious joy of watching Dolores Umbridge skulk about evilly. True, possession of the Quibbler was now an expulsion offense, but the only house where the magazine could be found was Slytherin, where the students were more than willing to give up their copies while denying any knowledge of how they got into their common room. Faced with the proposition of expelling the only house that supported her, Umbridge took no action, but searched the rest of the school high and low unsuccessfully for any further copies.

For two weeks this kept up, turning the Professor's mood more and more sour. Then one day her mood improved considerably. Eric knew this was trouble, but several attempts had failed to ascertain the nature of her cheerful demeanor. the answer to this disturbing shift came as a scream from downstairs. Professor Trelawney had finally been dismissed.

Eric stayed out of sight, but watched with some small amount of satisfaction as Professor Dumbledore granted her the right to remain even though she was no longer on the staff. He followed discretely as Professor McGonagall took her back up to her room, then settled her down. It was hours before the other staff members felt comfortable leaving Sybill upstairs on her own, which left Eric stiff and cramped in the tight corners he was hiding in.

It was nearly midnight when he finally approached his clairvoyance teacher. "You know, as long as Dumbledore wants you around, you're safe."

She shook her head sadly. "Even he won't be able to protect me forever. This is what I've been afraid of." She motioned him to sit across from her, both of them facing her crystal ball. "You've been watching her for some time, trying to learn more about her. I, on the other hand, may not have true inner sight but I try to make up for that with practical wisdom. Dolores Umbridge has been gathering strength and influence for years so that she could finally punish people for her childhood."

Sybill's statement took Eric by surprise. "Excuse me?"

She sipped her tea slightly to try and calm her nerves. "Dolores Umbridge has always been a tad heavy, with an obnoxiously high pitched voice and a pushy attitude swaddled in false sweetness. As a girl she was routinely teased and shunned, then spoiled horribly by over-compensating parents who let her do whatever she wished. This is her revenge against all the students that ever made her unwelcome, as well as all the teachers who told her to work harder. Now she's in charge so she gets to be the bully."

"But Dumbledore's still here to keep her under control."

She shook her head. "Not for much longer. Albus is preparing to deal with much greater things, and having to protect the school will only be a hindrance to him. Soon, that job will fall to the students themselves, for the teachers will be paralyzed against an assault from the Ministry which was supposed to support us."

Eric looked to his teacher desperately. "What are we going to do?"

She smiled slightly. "What I know you've already done; secure your position and prepare for the worst!"


	25. Chapter 25

Eric knew that if he wanted to get through the next several months, laying low would be the best option. This wasn't, however, what he had in mind. His favorite teacher was sacked – it was time for retaliation.

He summoned Blue from the Chamber of Secrets. Ducking his way through to the storehouses, he found an old, abandoned wand in a crumbling chest. He didn't care what it was made from, only that it was untraceable. Blue was now armed.

Eric slid his way through the ventilation ducts, guiding the pixie through the maze. It was tight, but it was necessary. Most teachers cast powerful wards on their doors and windows, but it was amazing the number of instructors that overlooked the ventilation grills. Dolores Umbridge was no exception, which didn't surprise Eric overmuch. She seemed like someone who tackled the obvious while overlooking details.

Eric's plan was simple. He needed Blue because the vent into Dolores' office was too small. Even with the grill removed, he couldn't get through. Blue, however, had no trouble and was an eager assistant, carrying out Eric's instructions to the letter. The office was an easy mark, with test papers stacked neatly to one corner while disciplinary notices decorated another. Her chair was adorned with one of her obnoxious pink cardigan sweaters, while a large rug covered the entryway. Blue worked on them all in line before departing, leaving behind a small crystal spider in one corner.

Blue woke Eric before dawn the next day. Eric woke Dorian after sending Blue off to rouse Naomi. As they gathered blearily in the common room, Willy passed out hot chocolate and biscuits.

Dorian was the first to speak. "What's up, Eric?"

Eric grinned slightly. "The teachers should be getting to their offices about now. It's payback time." He drew out his crystal ball and set it upon it's clawed stand. "_Occulus et Ausculto Obveniux_." The crystal drew out an image of Professor Umbridge's room. The sound of footsteps, accompanied by an obnoxious trilling hum, could be heard. The door opened, and Professor Umbridge stepped in.

Suddenly the room was a chaotic vortex of enraged movement. The rug assaulted the professor, bundling her hastily while her cardigan sweater unraveled itself to bind her in pink wool. Her disciplinary notices flung themselves about before igniting into sizzling fireballs, while the test papers wove themselves into a menagerie of origami animals that instantly panicked at the threat of immolation, fleeing out of the room. The professor's screams didn't have to emanate from Eric's spell; they could be heard throughout the castle.

It was all Eric could do to keep from bursting out laughing. He quickly gathered up the crystal while shushing Dorian, who had fallen off his chair. "Quiet, you idiot, they'll know it was me!"

Naomi looked over to him with a slightly arched eyebrow. "When your professors said to keep a low profile, I don't think this was on their minds."

"Hey, the trap spell was Dolores' own. We just modified it." Eric managed to get Dorian back on his feet. Fortunately, none of the Ravenclaw students were rousing yet.

Naomi's face frowned even further. "We?"

Eric pointed to the table where the pixie stood, proudly propped up with his wand. "I couldn't have done it without Blue."

Her face finally relaxed into a slight smirk. "No – not 'Blue'. Anyone capable of this deserves a real name." Drawing out her wand, she tapped the pixie lightly on the shoulders. "Noble pixie, I now christen thee – Azsher!"


	26. Chapter 26

The next two months were just as energetic, though not quite as destructive. All the teachers sought to prepare the fifth-year students for the upcoming OWLs with a final burst of cramming. Dumbledore was apparently accused of some kind of civil insurrection and fled the school, leaving Dolores Umbridge as the new Headmistress. Punishments were becoming severe, and the school's atmosphere was taking on a kind of paranoid fascism. To top it all off, the Weasley Twins were gone, having exited the school in grand fashion in response to Umbridge's attempt to punish them for a variety of unacceptable activities.

In the middle of this, Eric tried to do as he had been doing: lying low and keeping his extra-curricular activities out of sight. It was now well into Spring, and students were going through career counseling with the heads of their houses. It was a Wednesday afternoon when Eric had his appointment, and he dreaded it. With everything else he had gone through in his life, he never had time to consider what to do with the rest of it.

Naomi had hers that morning. She didn't seem bothered too much by it before she went in; Professor Flitwick was well known as a fair and pleasant instructor. However, she immediately found Eric after her visit. "You have to go – now!"

"Naomi – what's up?"

"Umbridge was there. I saw into her mind... I couldn't help it, she looked me straight in the eyes. She's out to get you, and it's worse than expulsion. Her trap is set, and all she's waiting for is for you to walk into it. She's going to arrest you when you go in for career counseling."

Eric was stunned. Surely he didn't do anything worth expulsion. "There's not enough time."

"Get to the Chamber of Secrets and let me know. We'll seal up the entrances behind you as soon as it's safe." She pushed him towards the Ravenclaw Dormitory. "She's probably searching for you – go now!"

Eric did his best, but he wasn't halfway to his destination before he heard a sickeningly sweet voice behind him. "Oh, there you are Mister Sable!" Eric turned and felt his heart sink as the Headmistress came up to him. "I was just on my way to meet you in Professor Flitwick's office. Come along now!" He shivered as her fat fingers pushed on his shoulders, forcing him away from the dormitory and back to the teacher's offices.

Professor Flitwick was his usual friendly self. "Ah, Mister Sable – do come in. I've been looking over your records, and I must say I'm very impressed. Despite a rather, shall we say bohemian approach to your education, you have managed extremely good grades on your tests. Your OWLs should prove to be no great challenge..."

"Hem hem!" Eric had managed to count off ten seconds before she interrupted. "Yes, we are all aware that Eric is a young man of considerable talents. In fact, I do believe your wand is of your own making. May I see it, please?" Eric would have rather jumped out the window, but he knew he was trapped. His next move would have to be a careful one. "A remarkable color. What is the core made of?"

"Manticore mane." He hated answering questions, but as of yet he had no reason not to.

"A good choice. I imagine the result is quite effective."

Professor Flitwick was growing restless. "Headmistress, I really see no reason for this line of discussion. We're supposed to be assisting Mister Sable in choosing a career path that would best suit his talents."

Professor Umbridge turned to Flitwick. "That won't be necessary. You see, Mister Sable has been under observation by myself for some time now, and especially during my stay here at Hogwarts. He has, on multiple occasions, flouted the decrees against underage use of magic. He has engaged in highly dangerous magical experiments without the approval of the Ministry, he has animated guardians, protected verminous creatures, and has illegally captured Golden Snidgets in direct violation of Ministry decrees."

Eric was stunned at how much she had found out. Dolores went on with her accusations. "You see, I've been investigating you ever since I first encountered you. Your actions often violated rules of order, but without definite proof no charges could be brought. My being posted here in an effort to improve order here at Hogwarts was a blessing, as I could now investigate your residences here. Mister Filtch was more than helpful in directing me where I wanted to go, and now I have seen all that I need to."

She puffed herself up, looking more like a fat frog than ever. "As High Inquisitor and Headmistress of Hogwarts, I have the authority to dispense what discipline I believe is necessary. As such, for all his offenses, Eric Sable is to be publicly whipped, and his property confiscated. He is to be expelled from this school, and the Ministry of Magic is to be informed of all his illegal activities. As of this moment, young man, your spell-casting days are OVER!" With that she took his wand in both hands and snapped it in half.

Eric's reaction was more reflex than anything else, as he proceeded to bolt out the door. The Headmistress was so intent on her performance that she failed to notice that she had paced the room and was currently behind Flitwick's desk. Further, with Eric's snapped wand in either hand, she was not prepared for his escape. As he flew out the door and down the stairs, she was still fumbling with her cardigan, struggling to draw her wand out to stop him.

He raced for the back stairs and down; down as far as he could. Rather than going anywhere he might encounter Naomi or the others, though, he cut outside then down into a drainage culvert. This would lead him back into the school's drainage pipes, and back to the Chamber of Secrets. Once he got there, he closed the great door behind him and focused on Naomi, letting her know he was there.

He had to work quickly. Umbridge would be searching for him, and the Chamber had to remain safe. Figuring that he had at most a few days, he began securing what he felt he couldn't carry. He'd need his broom, a few potions, and a wand. Having no choice, he dug out the Rukh wand he still kept from the summer. It was overkill, and would be difficult to manage, especially for subtle spells. Still, better a wand than not.

He decided to quickly search the library for books worth keeping. While doing so, he found a scrap of paper that caught his eye. It wasn't research, but rather simple scratchings on a piece of paper.

T o m M a r v o l o R i d d l e : Malevolod Mortoridam Mortovord _Voldemort_

M a o r i d l: Diramol Maidrol Lid- Lordiam _Lord I Am_

_**I AM LORD VOLDEMORT**_

Eric stood for an eternity looking at those simple letters. This was written by Tom Riddle, his great-grandfather. A sickening realization came upon him: to change your name created the worst form of bad luck in the Wizarding World. It was a denial of self and heritage that cursed the recipient forever. It was because of this that he always had one lead on his father – Sable meant something, something real.

Voldemort also meant something. Eric studied him long ago, to find out how someone could become that evil. There was no house or history of the Voldemorts, which indicated that the name was a fabrication. The spelling suggested French, which broke down to 'flight from death' or 'theft from death' or something regarding "flight/theft of/from/by/with death". Clearly, he was trying to scare people with his name as much as anything, which in a large part he succeeded. However, he was dealing in magic. He couldn't completely divest himself from Tom Marvolo Riddle. Therefore, he made up the name he needed. Eric sank into a chair, filled to the brim with unbelief. His great-grandfather was alive. Unfortunately, he was the one person feared and despised more than any other in the world.

It was well into nightfall before Eric could do anything. During that remaining time he packed what he could, then took up the cloak of invisibility. Unfortunately, one look in the mirror indicated a dreadful failure. The cloak did turn him invisible, along with anything on him that wasn't otherwise enchanted. However, everything that did bear an enchantment was still visible. His vest, gloves and boots all bore protection charms, the Rukh wand stood out like a sore thumb, and there was of course the cloak itself.

As an invisibility cloak it was a horrible failure. It did, however, afford his identity a certain amount of concealment. Needing every advantage he could get, he drew it over his shoulders and pulled up the hood.

First there would be a quick dinner at the Hog's Head, after which he would pick up Midget and Widget from the post office. From there he would head out to the only half-safe place he knew. It wasn't what he would call a good plan, but Knockturn Alley was the one place he could hide long enough to get his bearings. He'd spend one night at the Rookery, where he'd come up with a plan for his next move.


	27. Chapter 27

One day quickly expanded into one week. Instead of the Rookery, Eric ended up living in the alleyways; huddled and hungry, guarding his few possessions for dear life. He knew he'd have to sell them, but only when he was desperate enough. Fortune, however, smiled on him when two young men in dragonskin clothing walked by. It took only a moment to recognize them. "Fred – George?"

"Eric – is that you, mate?" Fred leaned down to give him a hand. "We heard about you getting expelled. The Ministry is looking for you right now. You did know that, right?"

Eric nodded. "I pretty much expected it. Right now I need a meal and a hiding place."

"Fear not, noble confederate, for we can supply both!" George swept up Eric while Fred grabbed his broom.

"I appreciate it. I'll pay you back as soon as I can."

They both smiled. "You can pay us back right now, thistlehead. You're potion marks were always excellent, right? And you're craftsmanship – you've made more fanciful stuff than many people can imagine? We've got more orders for gags than we can fill. How does ten galleons a day plus room and board sound?"

Room and board was more than enough as it stood. Gainful employment was more than he could dream for. "Um, guys? I don't have a wand right now."

George grinned back. "There's a second-hand shop up the way that doesn't ask questions. You should be able to find there that'll be usable for the time being. We'll just take it from your wages for a bit."

As a result, Eric spent the next week in the basement of 93 Diagon Alley crafting one magical item after another, while brewing potions at a hundred doses per batch. He set up a side room for testing, making sure that the mass creation didn't mar the quality. Success was in the air, and the Weasleys couldn't be happier.

After a while, the twins insisted he take a couple days off. Their inventory was nearly filled to capacity, and Eric hadn't slept more than four hours at a time. Unfortunately, it wasn't the work that was keeping him awake. Ministry Aurors had been to the shop more than once. Twice, they had gotten close to where Fred and George were keeping him. They assured him that their defenses were foolproof, and that they would protect him. None of this, however, allowed him to shake the feeling of imminent disaster, or to let his guard down when he was less than exhausted.

It was at one such time, however, when his feelings of dread were confirmed. In a dream he saw Naomi being taken by Aurors. She wasn't taken to the Ministry, however, but to a dark place, one he had never seen before. The Aurors took her wand, bound her hands and covered her mouth to keep her from reciting spells. They then turned away, standing like statues facing outward.

When Eric awoke, it was with the feeling that he saw far more than just a dream. Grasping for his pendant, he found that Naomi was indeed bound and imprisoned. For a moment he could see a parchment, but Naomi looked away. Try as he might, he couldn't convince her to look at it.

"_He's with you, isn't he?" _Through Naomi's thoughts, the voice sounded clouded. Suddenly Eric's mind was assaulted with nursery rhymes, riddles, poems, and confusing questions thrown at him all at once. The voice, however, managed to pierce through. _"The Rookery in two days. Enter the parliament and we will be waiting."_

Eric had hoped to go back to the Rookery under more pleasant circumstances, perhaps to meet some of the locals. This, however, was a situation far removed from what he was hoping for. He could feel every eye that looked at him as he crossed the floor into the back room. He knew it was a trap, but he had prepared as best he could. The Rukh wand was stowed in the folds of his overcoat, so he wasn't going unarmed. He only hoped that it would be enough.

Down on the stage stood four figures. In the middle was Naomi. Standing behind her on either side were two hooded figures. In front of them was a shorter gentleman dressed in black, wearing what appeared to be a Quaker's hat. "Good – you've come alone. I am Gabriel Downing, we are Draconians, and you are to come with us."

Eric stood defiantly. "I'm here. Now let her go."

The man laughed. "Why should I? We never promised to release her, and now I have you both."

"HALT!" An unexpected voice rang out from the entrance. Two men, clearly Ministry Aurors, entered the auditorium. "Eric Sable, by order of the Ministry of Magic you are to relieve yourself of all wands, charms, and protective defenses. After this you are to come with us."

Eric was only briefly startled. "Um, excuse the impertinence, but what about the two kidnappers over there?"

The Aurors seemed briefly confused. The three on the stage, however, weren't of a mind to wait. Their stunning spells missed their targets, however, and the Aurors quickly responded. Everyone was diving for cover as crimson bolts shot about when another door burst open, revealing a cloaked figure flanked by two dementors. "Eric Sable – the Death Eaters have come, for Lord Voldemort wishes to see you!"

Eric had planned for the kidnappers, and the Aurors were an expected complication. A Death Eater, however, was not part of the plan at all – it was time for reinforcements. Drawing the Rukh wand out from under his own cloak, he cast a whistling spell into the air that resulted in a deafening resonance throughout the hall. In response to this, Dorian and Tylena burst out from the balcony, casting _Rictusempra_ charms every which way, adding to the chaos. Eric ran under the cover of the spells to finish freeing Naomi, who had already cleared her mouth and summoned her wand.

"_Amoranu Kaiserix – patronus collega – incendium caligo!"_ A plume of fire burst out from the stage, lashing tendrils at the dementors. It seemed to move as if alive, swinging and striking out at the cloaked figures as they scattered about. Naomi seemed to grow tenfold, her eyes glowing a brilliant ruby as darkness seemed to flow from her garments. _"Get to the exit, I'll be right with you."_

Eric ran for the tavern exit only to find an Auror blocking his way, knocking him over with a _Impedimus_ spell. "Eric Sable – you are under arrest!"

A popping noise above him heralded the entrance of yet another combatant. Sheena landed catlike in the aisle, knocking over the auror with a sweeping kick. _"Exitialis Sinistra!" _Even without a wand in her hand, the invocation produced results as her left hand glowed with a crackling energy. As if to further make a point, she lashed out at the auror; just missing his head but destroying the chair next to it. "Run! We'll cover you!"

Pleased that the rescue was going so well, Eric dove between the seats to retrieve the Rukh wand. He then called to Dorian and Tylena to beat a retreat before making his way back towards Naomi,. He was less than ten feet from pulling her away from the fight when a cold chill shot up his spine and out to every nerve in his body. Turning about, he saw the Death Eater rise up, wand aimed directly at Naomi as he sibilantly chanted. "**_Avada ..."_**

"_**CAOR!"**_

No one, not even Eric, could precisely describe what happened. His spell choice was instinctual. The casting gesture was nothing more than a firm directing of the Rukh wand resembling nothing so much as a hasty swing of a stick. Any schooled wizard would have considered the move base and pathetic at best. There was nothing, however, pathetic about a Celtic Thunderbolt. The force of the spell was so powerful that much of the air was blown from the room. It was as if everything had become impossibly quiet, before the thunderclap of air rushing back resounded with such force that everyone in the auditorium was stunned.

Eric staggered back to his feet, wand in hand in case he had to follow up. The Dementors, however, clearly wanted nothing to do with this; choosing to melt back into the shadows and vanishing. Likewise the few remaining Draconians gathered up their stunned and injured, taking them back where they came from. Both Sheena and the auror backed off from each other, clearly waiting for the other's next move while watching to see if anything else came from below.

Taking in the entire scene, Eric found that the Death Eater had been blown through a dozen rows of fixed chairs. The devastation was massive, as the spot where he had stood was now a twenty-foot diameter crater, with pieces of wood and upholstery driven into the floor. Eric cautiously approached the fallen Death Eater, only to stand numb at the sight he found. He was crumpled amid a pile of rubble; his eyes open wide with surprise, a small trickle of blood coming from his mouth, and his neck twisted to a most unnatural angle.

There could be no doubt about it: Eric's Thunderbolt killed a wizard.


	28. Chapter 28

Eric had lost track of how long he had run. Tearing away from the Rookery, he transformed into the Beast to make better use of time and the London sewer system. Exhaustion began to creep into his limbs, and he knew he had to change back soon. He needed clothing and a place to hide, but he had no idea where to get them.

As Eric pondered these problems as he crawled through the sewer muck, he began to hear a voice calling to him. At first, he was sure he was hearing things, but the voice came through loud and clear. _"Don't be afraid. Trust me, and I'll see that you're safe."_ Uncertain at first, he decided that his rather limited set of options made an investigation necessary. Peering out from a sewer grate, he was astounded to see a house materialize out of nowhere. _"There is another sewer grate behind the house. No one will see you enter."_

Following the instructions given, Eric found a coal chute in the back of the house, leading to the basement where he found a set of clothing was waiting for him. After an easy shift back to humanity, he found that not only were the clothes a Hogwarts uniform, they were _his_ Hogwarts uniform. This meant that his benefactor knew him personally.

After he finished dressing, he was about to investigate the house when the ground-floor door opened, revealing Professor Dumbledore. "Ah, Eric. I am relieved to see that you are unharmed, and that you haven't yet lost the capacity to trust." He closed the door behind him. "I must ask a favor of you. We're having a rather difficult night, so I must ask that you keep to the basement for right now. Once you hear us leave, you may enter the kitchen, where a cot and food will be waiting. Take them downstairs with you and make yourself as comfortable as you can. I will fetch you in the morning."

Eric couldn't imagine what Dumbledore meant; but if he was having a difficult night, Eric knew the safest place would be out of sight. He waited an eternity of five minutes before entering the kitchen. True to the Professor's words, there was a small cot and some blankets. The stew in the kettle smelled heavenly, while the bread laid out on the table was warm and soft. He tried to compromise between taking as little as he could and as much as he dared before making his way back to the basement.

The house was enchanted, the home of a Great Family. Eric could feel it in the walls and timbers. Because of this, he decided to lay down some wards against bogarts and other vermin. Then, with a full belly and a warm blanket, he settled in for the night. With Dumbledore protecting him, he'd at least get a fresh start in the morning.

Eric's dreams that night were a jumbled mix of images. Shadows and shafts of light fought with one another for a gemstone – a giant dog fell and drowned in a pit of tar – and a snake was struck by a flaming bird as it constricted about a yearling stag. None of it made any sense, but in the morning it all left Eric feeling empty and alone.

In the morning Remus Lupin came down the stairs with a dusty quill. Professor Dumbledore had summoned him. Taking the quill, Eric found himself drawn back to Hogwarts courtyard, where Dumbledore was waiting for him. "Ah, Eric. I need a favor of you. I'm going into the Dark Forest to retrieve Professor Umbridge, and I'll need you to scout ahead for me."

Eric smiled to himself as he drew out his crystal. A quick sweep found the Inquisitor. While he couldn't make out all that was happening, he could see that she was terrified. "That way, sir; straight as the crow flies."

The headmaster smiled to him. "Excellently done. However, in this case I need a path that would avoid obstacles, traps and complications. I need a scout, my boy; not a compass."

Eric looked at the professor quizzically. "Um, sir, you know that for me to be any good at all, I'd have to..."

Dumbledore smiled. "Most likely, and we need to act quickly."

Moving off to a patch behind Hagrid's hut, Eric stripped down and transformed. It wasn't long before he discovered a scent which told him which professor he was seeking to hunt down. An overpowering scent of a really cheap perfume made it clear that he was hunting down Dolores Umbridge. He couldn't make out who else was there at first. Their scents were old and faint. After a while, though, he picked up an additional trail, ruggedly equine – Centaurs, then.

He followed the trail deeper and deeper into the forest. Several times he had to cut left or right to avoid traps, Devil's Snare, and a menagerie of unpleasant creatures. Eric expected that Dumbledore was somehow following him, though he never saw or heard the Headmaster. Finally, he came just shy of a clearing in which a centaur herd had Professor Umbridge surrounded.

A cackling laugh escaped him as he watched the creatures trot about her. She was tied about a tree with her wand stomped to splinters before her, while the elders spoke among themselves about what to do with her. Burning, thrashing, and whipping were all being discussed – as well as leaving her tied up for the werewolves. Eric was waiting anxiously to find out what they decided, hoping beyond hope for the last. He was disappointed, however, when Professor Dumbledore broke through the tree line into the circle.

The Professor was handling the group well, asking them to release Umbridge into his custody. The discussion, however, was not going well. Eric got the impression that, while Dumbledore may have had a good or at least amiable association with the centaurs in the past, the Ministry of Magic had done too much. The centaurs were livid about how they were viewed and dealt with. Humans violating their remaining spaces would pay; and it looked like Umbridge, and now Dumbledore, were going to be first.

As they began to circle about the Professor, it was clear that something had to be done. Moving to the tree line, he began to growl. The centaurs turned about to face him as the Beast, backing up in a horrified response to his appearance. Dumbledore, however, took advantage of the situation. "Noble elders: I see that you dislike this creature. It wasn't my intent that you would ever encounter him, but now it seems we have something to barter."

The professor walked over to Dolores Umbridge. "If you clear the way for myself and the professor here, I will take charge of the beast you see, making sure that it will never trouble you again." The centaurs looked to each other uncertainly before clearing a path. Drawing out his wand, Dumbledore hexed the rope to release Dolores, then waved it at Eric – indicating that he was to leave.


	29. Chapter 29

Upon leaving Dumbledore's company, Eric made a straight path back to Hagrid's hut. Drawing his clothes back on, he turned to find his old guardian waiting for him. "Well, Eric! It's been ages, boy." Reaching forward, he drew Eric into a massive hug. "How've yeh been?"

Eric drew himself stiffly. "Well: I've been kidnapped, transformed into a wolven beast, hounded by the Ministry, banished from London, blindly punished all year, and ultimately expelled. How has your year been?" It came out a bit more bitterly than Eric intended, but only slightly.

Hagrid drew himself up uncertainly. "Um, well, I'm sorry I wasn't there. I've been a bit busy, y'see."

Eric nodded. "Yes, I know. You've been running errands, helping giants, and generally following Dumbledore's instructions. I'm sure it's all important, but when were you going to let me in on it?"

Hagrid paused at that. "Well, it was kinda secret, y'see. I couldn' tell anyone – even you." He sat down closer to Eric. "It doesn't mean that I don't still care about yeh, boy!"

Eric, however, stood up away from him. "I know. It's just, well, you've always been my family. But now, when I need family the most, you're off running Dumbledore's errands. I don't know when or even if you'll ever be back. Now I've got troubles of my own, and I don't have you to turn to, anymore."

Hagrid swayed back slightly. "Well, hum, I don't know what to say..."

"I do." The stately figure of Professor Dumbledore stepped out from around a corner. "The boy needs to go back to his family."

Hagrid stood up suddenly. "Perfessor – didn't hear you come up over there."

"No, I don't expect that you would have. That is of no matter. What does matter is that about fifteen years ago you said that if we found Eric's family and they met with your approval, he would be returned to them. Tell me – do you have any reservations about the Peals?"

"Well, er, nosir. It's just that they never asked for him proper-like." The giant shifted on his feet uncertainly.

"Well now they have, and I approve of their decision. It is high time that the boy was returned to his proper family, and the sooner the better."

Now it was Eric's turn to voice uncertainty. "Well, sir, there may be a problem ..."

Dumbledore smiled to him. "No, my boy, there are actually no problems at all. I am well aware of the matters that surround your circumstances. We will be talking about them at length. For the meantime, be advised that you are on probation for as much time as I deem necessary. Much has happened that needs to be worked through, and I will expect your co-operation." Dumbledore turned to Hagrid. "Would you excuse us, please?"

"Well, um, a'course sir." Hagrid moved back into his home, looking back at Eric one last time.

"Now that we can speak freely – you've cast a fatal spell, is that correct?"

Eric nodded. "It wasn't meant to be. It was just supposed to stun him. Things just, well, got out of hand."

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, that's what happens when powerful magic is released – and you are powerful, make no mistake. Your course of study was meant to bring out the best in you, and in many ways it has. However, I fear I've neglected your education in two important aspects. The first is a proper respect for the potential you possess. The second is an ethical foundation to guide your actions. This will need to be remedied in your upcoming years so that you will be ready for graduation."

"Um, Professor? I think I'm Voldemort's grandson."

"Great-grandson, actually. Don't look so surprised, I surmised this a while ago. However, it makes no difference. You are your own person. Who you will be depends entirely upon you."

Eric sighed heavily. "I wish I was never involved in any of this."

The professor nodded again. "Most of us wish that. Perhaps we can do something about it. Now: I have to take poor Dolores into the school. This has all been a terrible ordeal for her. I suggest you find your own way back to your dormitory." Dumbledore left and turned a corner, helping up the frazzled School Inquisitor.

As Professor Dumbledore escorted Dolores Umbridge, Eric made his own way back to the school. In all honesty it was a relief not to be scrutinized, for he was way beyond being able to answer any questions. When he finally entered the main staircase, he passed the Ravenclaw rooms, choosing instead to return to the darkness at the bottom landing. He needed the peace and quiet to think.

He lost track of how long he had been down there before he heard footsteps. Looking up, he saw the smiling face of Katie Bell. "It seems I'm always finding you down here. Are you all right?"

Eric nodded. "Fine, thanks. It's just – I needed to be alone for a while."

She smiled in reply. "I understand. It's just, well, Naomi's my cousin. She's always been the weird one, maybe that's why I like her the best. I wanted to thank you for rescuing her."

He shook his head. "They were trying to get to me. If it wasn't for me, she wouldn't have been in danger."

Katie sighed. "Eric, there's a world of possibilities out there, and an even bigger world of might-have-beens. You did what you had to with what you were given, and in the end the good guys won this fight. You should be proud, or at least relieved." She set a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I'm going back to the main hall – it's pretty close to dinnertime. Are you coming?"

Eric nodded. "I just need a few more minutes. Tell Naomi I'm on my way."

As Katie wandered up the stairway, Eric pondered his surroundings. For whatever reason, the darkness always seemed to protect him in the past. Now it was closing in, and it was beginning to get rather uncomfortable. Maybe it would be better if he got out of it more. Maybe he had no choice.

As he was about to walk up the stairs, he heard another sound. Turning about, he found himself facing the most well-known face in the school. "Harry?"

Harry Potter stepped out of the shadows. "Hi Eric. How are you doing?"

Eric was a bit surprised. Harry was always nice enough, but it wasn't like they had ever been real friends. "Better. Things have just been a little crazy."

He smiled. "Yeah, I heard. Um, can I ask you something – well, kind of personal?"

"Sure." Eric couldn't imagine what Harry might ask. Maybe he was having girl trouble.

"There's a rumor that you killed someone."

Eric was stunned for a moment, having to take a deep breath to recover. "Yes...?"

Harry suddenly leaned closer to him, as if trying to hide a dark secret. "What was it like?"


	30. Chapter 30

It took a full week before Eric began to cast spells again. First was a trip to Flourish & Blott's, to get a temporary wand. He'd make his own again eventually, but he had to start with something. Then came the drills; hour after hour of casting practice. His first spells were shaky, but eventually they began to find their own form. They were still nowhere near his original abilities, but Professor Frugilagus wasn't surprised.

"Eric, I know that events have given you quite a shock, but you have to get your skills back. Like it or not, you will have need of them." Corvin's drills took him through all the major disciplines in a matter of days. As such, it wasn't long before he was back to his old abilities.

The professor was pleased. "It's good that you're working so hard, for others are working for you as well. Since the Ministry's actions caused you to miss your O.W.L.s, Professor Dumbledore has arranged for you to be tested personally at the Ministry's expense. You have one week to prepare."

Eric would've liked more time, but the one week had to do. Although he remembered that Professor Frugilagus warned him against excelling, it seemed wrong to give anything less than his all. The Headmaster had gone through considerable trouble for his behalf. It wouldn't be right to give him less than the best he could.

After reviewing his results, Professor Flitwick called Eric into his office. "Outstanding news, my boy! Eight OWLs altogether, including three E's and two O's. Not a failure in the lot. I daresay the world is open to you." The chipper little man hunched forward on his desk. "So – what will it be? It's been a while since Ravenclaw has produced an Auror, or perhaps a Ministry job would be more to your liking."

"Neither, sir." Eric settled into his chair. "In all honesty, I've already had more excitement and adventure in my life than I wanted. With the way things are going, I'm probably going to have more, but what I'd really like to do is to find some quiet corner to make things. You know – custom broomsticks, wands, cabinets, ... or maybe magical research, or improving relations with other races." He leaned on one arm. "Well, maybe I really don't know what I want, except that I know I don't want any more adventures."

Professor Flitwick smiled and settled into his chair. "You know, I had my doubts – but no; you really are a Ravenclaw at heart. Far more interested in arts and sciences than in adventures, that's what makes a Ravenclaw. Well, no matter. It's clear that you'll be able to find your way without a problem. Just make sure it's the right thing for you."

As Eric wandered haphazardly towards the Main Hall, he bumped into Sheena Wyldehart. "Hey, watch it there!"

"Oh, sorry." Looking her over, he noticed a black dufflebag slung over her shoulder. "All packed for the summer?"

"All packed forever, my friend. My seven years are over, and I am OUTAHERE! I'm off to seek my fortune. So; have you got my cloak?"

"It's back in the Weasley's store. It had some flaws at first, but I got them ironed out." He suddenly became rather glum. "I'm going to miss you."

"Hey, don't look like that. I'll keep in touch. In fact, the gang's getting together in London in a few days. You'll be there?" Eric nodded. "Good – I'm going to hold you to that." She wandered off back towards the dormitories.

Entering the Main Hall, he settled in for lunch. After a few minutes, Dorian came over to him. "Planning to sulk forever?"

Eric growled slightly before replying. "You have no idea what it's like."

Naomi flanked him on his other side. "Maybe not, but we can still help you through all of this."

"Naomi – almost everything I thought I knew about magic is wrong."

She peeked out from her cloak, locking her eyes with his. "Then you start over. There's nothing stopping you from making a fresh break of things, and you know enough now to pursue all the things you did before. Maybe with more caution, and maybe with more respect for the consequences of what you do. Whatever you do – don't run, or you'll be running all of your life."

Eric gave her a sour look. "Sounds like a lot of canned answers."

She set a gentle hand on his arm. "Things don't have to be original to be true. Now eat your lunch so you can help me. While you were gone, I pulled the short straw: I have to track down all the stuff Luna has absent-mindedly lost over the last year."


	31. Chapter 31

The ride on the Hogwarts Express was pleasantly quiet. His arrival in London was much less eventful than last year, with the Peals sweeping him home straightaway. The one thing he couldn't expect, though, was the crushing hug he received from Clareone when he came through the doorway.

It took several minutes before she could let him go. Looking up, Eric was astonished to find that she had been crying. "I thought we lost you!"

Eric looked up sheepishly. "It's been a hard year."

Looking about, Clareone suddenly noted the presence of her husband and son. Quickly wiping her tears, she straightened up. "Yes, well, we'll see if we can't have an easier summer. Goodness knows we all could use some quiet time."

He hated to break the moment, but this was the first time Clareone had softened, and he didn't want to surprise her. "Um, a few of us were planning to get together in a couple weeks to go out."

She looked down at him, then smiled. "I expect you all to be very careful, and there will be a curfew."

It was Eric's turn to hug her. "Don't worry; I'll be good."


	32. Chapter 32

Eric arrived at the Wainwrights with a tight bundle in hand. Sheena and Naomi were already waiting in the parlor. Naomi was the first to greet him. "Your hair has been cut again."

Eric nodded. It was fairly short in most places, though the back completely covered his neck. "The long hair belonged to someone without a care in the world. That isn't me anymore."

Sheena smiled at him. "Don't get so melodramatic on us. Admit it: you like the way you look better like this."

Eric shrugged. "Well, yeah – that and I realized what a pain it was keeping it all clean."

She grinned in triumph. "So – did you come through?"

"I always keep promises." Drawing out the package, he handed it to Sheena, who gleefully tore it open. After throwing it on, she turned to Eric, slightly confused.

"What gives?" The garment was re-cut to resemble a trenchcoat with a hood. It was deep greenish in color, with a pearling sheen. Unlike a normal cloak, it didn't cover completely, and she wasn't showing a single sign of disappearing.

"Here." Gently reaching for the lapels, he drew out two clasps from behind concealing flaps and locked them together. A whispering of magic enshrouded Sheena. Naomi gasped as they found themselves facing a head and a pair of hands. "Let the cuffs down, and the hood has a veil you need to pull down." As Sheena gleefully complied, her remaining body components vanished from sight.

A disembodied voice called out to him. "It's awesome and discreet – it's perfect!"

"I'm glad you like it. Basically, unconcealed magic items and anything sticking out from the coat will be visible unless you cover it up, and the clasp runs the spell. Oh, and there are narrow pockets on either side for your wand."

A clacking sound heralded Sheena's return to the visible world. "This is excellent. You really know how to pay a debt." She gave him a quick hug in thanks.

"Did we miss something?" Dorian and Tylena had just arrived, finishing their group.

"Not at all. Let's go." Taking Eric's arm, Naomi led them all out the back, where Norman was waiting with their car. "To Gotham, Norman."

The nightclub was as fascinating as before. This time, however, they were greeted by a small crowd. Eric recognized a few faces from Hogwarts. Apparently their group spent the year spreading the word about their favorite hangout. Eric was desperate to find a quiet place to sit and drink, but they had barely managed to find a table before a thudding tone and tapping sound again drew Naomi onto the dance floor with Eric reluctantly in tow.

_Magic in her hands – she could make anything grow... Magic in her hands ..._

Naomi danced wonderfully. Her moves flowed evenly one to the next, and she made it very easy for Eric to know what she wanted him to do next. Here she led the way, and all he had to do was to support her in whatever she wanted to do. It was so simple, almost second nature. She never was more than a foot away from him at any time as she moved and swayed to the music. She kept near him, never looking to shine on her own or to leave him behind in the dark.

_... crawling the tightrope along the latticework ..._

She took his hand and faced him, staring deep into his eyes, pledging without words that he would never be alone again. Somehow he knew that Naomi was decided – she would never abandon him.


End file.
